


Beneath Their Masks: Lyrical Harmony

by Mazanica



Series: Beneath Their Masks [2]
Category: Five Nights at Freddy's
Genre: Abuse and neglect, And all types of abuse are in this story okay, Anthro AU, But otherwise it's full of cliches, Cliches like the unpopular kid is rich and the popular characters fall for the unpopular characters, Depression, F/F, Friendship, Future themes of violence, Hinted noncon, Hurt/Comfort/Angst, Like there's no heterosexuals in here at all, M/M, Maybe hints of Mike/Jeremy, Originals/Toys, Other, Romance, Suicidal thoughts/themes, This story has a really dark part, Transgender Agender Mangle, Yaoi and Yuri, explicit noncon, highschool
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-23
Updated: 2016-12-11
Packaged: 2018-06-03 22:21:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 43,720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6628930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mazanica/pseuds/Mazanica
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Companion Piece, Freddy and Alfred's side.</p><p>--</p><p>Freddy Fazbear has always had it pretty easy in life; with a loving family and wonderful friends, he never really understood that there were people less fortunate. However, when his new, eccentric science teacher assigns him to be Alfred Fischbach's lab partner, he begins noticing certain things about the other bear. He's quiet and withdrawn, yet there's a fire in his eyes and a bruise around his wrist that looks suspiciously like a handprint. Despite everything he has ever felt about the other, Freddy finds himself very concerned for his new lab partner.</p><p>Alfred could never claim to have a good life, with a drunk father and an uncaring mother and a strange inability to say what he wanted to say, but he honestly believed he had the best friends in the entire world. He didn't need anyone else... so when the "Fazcrew" begin poking around in their lives, he does not appreciate it. He especially does not appreciate it when he finds himself becoming friends with them, and when everything starts to unravel before his very eyes, the only ones who could pick up the pieces were the ones pulling the carpet out from under their feet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Introduction

**Author's Note:**

> Hello and welcome to Beneath Their Masks: Lyrical Harmony! If you’re looking at this, well, I can honestly say I’m surprised but pleased. This is a Companion Fic to Behind Their Masks: The Golden Rule, Guitar Strings, Pirate’s Life, and Half-Baked!
> 
> These fics are all the same “story” told from the perspective of different couples and, in case you failed to notice, these are all GoldenSpring and Original/Toy, but the pairings are most evident in their own fics. It’ll be a while until any pairings happen, though; first they all need to become friends.
> 
> Warnings: RATED M FOR FUTURE THEMES. Homosexuality, bullying, cliques, transgender issues (DMAB-Agender Mangle), sexual themes, sexual abuse & rape, physical, emotional, mental abuse, parental neglect, severe depression and suicidal themes/attempted suicide, chronic nightmares and night terrors, this story will get very dark at one point.
> 
> Pairings: Freddy/Toy Freddy (Alfred), Foxy/Funtime Foxy (Mangle), Chica/Toy Chica (Chii), Goldie/Spring, Bonnie/Toy Bonnie (Blu)
> 
> Disclaimer: I own none of the characters!

It took him only two seconds to catch the scent of cheap alcohol and only three more to duck right before a bottle, still partially-filled with the brown liquid, hit the wall above his desk. He frowned at the liquid dripping down onto his desk- onto his homework, even- and turned to the doorway to stare at the large bear standing there, leaning heavily against the frame with a snarl on his face. _Oh._  
  
Pulling an expression of neutrality onto his face, he stood up to face his father. Oh, sure, inside he was terrified- _what new bruises will I add to my collection tonight, I wonder?_ \- but on the outside he was a cool, collected mask of indifference. “Do you need something?” he asked flatly, watching the older bear stagger from the doorway and into his room. Immediately his mind began racing- if he was fast enough, he could slip past the bigger bear and get out the door. But where would he go? Most of his friends weren’t much better off and Spring wasn’t home tonight.  
  
“Ya worthless little shite,” the bear slurred at him, knocking over his music stand. “H-how dare ya- ya think ya can jus’ talk to me, ha!”  
  
Geez. “Alright,” he agreed simply, carefully sliding the essay he was editing, yet again, off of the desk. There was a large beer stain in the right-hand corner. He’d need to redo it or else his new English teacher might think something was up. “Anything else?” he asked, mostly to keep the sorry excuse of a father occupied in his thoughts as he side-stepped to his bed, grabbing his bookbag and sliding the papers in next to the textbook. There was a change of clothes in the bottom. He was _always_ prepared.  
  
 _Maybe Chii. Her parents are out tonight, but she’s probably asleep by now. I’ll call her._  
  
There was a flash of dark brown as Alfred’s father reached towards him, claws ready to tear as they grabbed his arm. Alfred jerked away quickly before he could get a grip and, taking hardly a moment to shoulder his bag, ran straight past the unsteady drunkard into the living room. His mother was laying on the couch, staring blankly at the ceiling with a wine bottle in her hand, but he didn’t give her much attention as he ran by, ignoring his father screaming for him to _get back here, ya worthless little bitch!_  
  
He slammed the front door and raced down the walkway towards the road and continued running. There was no way he was staying home tonight, not with his father like that, so he ran towards a neighborhood not too far away. It was a nicer neighborhood than his- a lower middle class neighborhood, but nicer. More importantly, that was where one of his best friends lived.  
  
The rosy-cheeked bear slowed down to a walk once he reached the edge of his neighborhood. His father wouldn’t follow him, he knew- he’d never make it past the front porch, the steps would trip him and then he’d start an argument with them like the drunk maniac he was.  
  
Pulling his phone out of his bag, he dialed the familiar number- he didn’t have anyone in his contacts for fear of his parents taking his phone and calling or texting them- and waited.   
  
After two or three rings, a sleepy “Hello?” greeted him.  
  
“Chii,” he greeted as he usually did, frowning to himself. He didn’t want to bother her.  
  
“What’s up?” his female friend asked. He could hear her soft sigh as she stretched; clearly he’d woken her up. “What happened? There’s no way you’d be callin’ me this late just because.”  
  
“Dad was drinking again.” He couldn't make himself say more, couldn't explain what had happened. All he could say was that. _Dad was drinking again._  
  
“Oh…” He could practically hear her frown. “Need somewhere to crash tonight? Mother and Charlie are out tonight so they’d never know.”  
  
“Thank you,” he thanked her, putting as much gratefulness into his voice as he knew how. He wasn’t very good with speaking; he expressed most of his emotions through his actions or his expressions. Alfred wondered if that was a by-product of his _if you stay quiet, they’ll notice you less_ philosophy. He was never able to say _exactly_ what he wanted to, only what was absolutely necessary. He never understood why.  
  
“Of course. I’ll unlock the front door for you. Are you alright, Alfred?”  
  
“Yes. I ducked. My homework is not.”  
  
Chii sighed softly in response but said nothing else. That was alright, though; he understood. Alfred loved his friends dearly and understood them better than he understood himself. They were everything to him and he knew he could rely on them whenever he needed help. Sure, the reason they had bonded so closely hadn’t been for the best reason; five people with shitty lives with only each other to depend on didn’t sound very safe. He remembered clearly the first time he found out about each of his friends’ problems- how barely two weeks into first grade Blu had come to him in tears with one of his ears broken and no one else to go to, how Chii’s brand new step-father stayed too close to the little girl and his hand lingered too long on her shoulder, how Mangle broke down and confessed everything when he saw the bruises on their neck, the first time Spring showed up with a gash across his eye...  
  
He remembered the hurt and fear in each of their eyes as they told him the truth and he had made it his job to be there for all of them- and, in turn, they were there for him. Somehow they had become a sort of family of their own, leaning on each other to keep themselves up in a world that kept trying to knock them down. It wasn’t easy and there were always lapses- he clearly remembered the horror that was seventh grade, and then that one November night when Chii had called, hysterical, because Spring had said some… frightening things- but in the end they always came out stronger, closer, tighter.   
  
It took them until junior year to realize that the reason they had no other friends beside each other was because they were so close; no outsiders looking in could see room for anyone else. To outsiders, everything looked fine.  
  
And, Alfred supposed with a small smile as he spotted Chii waiting at her door, it _was_ fine. Just as long as he had his friends- his family- he didn’t need anyone else. Once high school was over and they could leave this town for good, everything would be better.  
  
For all of them.

* * *

“Dammit, Goldie, pick up the phone!” The brown bear groaned, dropping his phone back onto his bed. He frowned and stared across the room he shared with his twin at the empty bed, highly irritated. “If you get grounded I’m not helping you,” he grumbled, crossing his arms as he glared at the empty bed like it had done something wrong.  
  
After several moments of silence he sighed and grabbed the phone, hitting the contact marked “Bonnie.” A busy signal came up but after a second or two his friend had switched over to answer his call. “Hey, Freddy, what’s up?” the lighter, breezier voice of his closest friend asked.  
  
“Hey, Bonnie,” he said with a friendly smile, trying not to let his irritation sound through the phone. He had a feeling he didn’t do so well. “Do you know where Goldie is? He isn’t picking up and it’s already eleven, mom and dad are freaking out.”  
  
“Oh, um,” Bonnie started thoughtfully, “didn’t he go downtown tonight?” Freddy frowned, trying to remember. “I dunno, I was only half-listening- you and Foxy were having a french-fry war at the time, so… that was much more entertaining.” Normally Freddy would laugh at that but right then he wished his friend had been listening to his brother, so instead he sighed heavily in frustration.  
  
“Well he forgot to tell mom and dad,” he huffed. “They’re worried sick ‘bout him.”  
  
“Just send him a text warning,” Bonnie said and Freddy could practically hear the indifferent shrug.  
  
“Yeah, I suppose,” he agreed. He decided to change the subject, searching for a distraction. “We still on for tomorrow night?”  
  
“If I finish this essay, duh we are,” Bonnie told him with a laugh. “C’mon, videogames and pizza? Who’s gonna turn that down?”  
  
“Of course,” Freddy chuckled and shook his head. The only thing Bonnie enjoyed more than videogames and pizza was _music_ , videogames and pizza. “Let’s just hope Goldie doesn’t get himself grounded, mom and dad won’t let him go.”  
  
“Here’s to hopin’,” the rabbit on the other end agreed. “Is that all ya needed?” As Bonnie asked that, Freddy could hear his mother’s voice yelling something downstairs. Goldie was home.  
  
“Yeah, I’m gonna head to bed now,” he told Bonnie, though he wasn’t. He was going to find out where Goldie’s been, obviously. “You should too. Oh wait- you can’t,” he added with a grin.  
  
“Oh shut it, Fazbear,” Bonnie sighed. “Well then, goodnight Freddy. I’m gonna keep talkin’ to Foxy now. By the way,” the rabbit suddenly started, “his moms have invited us to go to New York with them over Christmas and New Years.”  
  
Freddy wasn’t surprised; Foxy’s mothers always asked them to go on family vacations with them. Mrs. and Mrs. Jones both adored all four of their son’s friends. The only times Freddy and Goldie were unable to go was when their own parents had already planned family vacations for those times, and then sometimes their entire families would go too. It was like all five of them and their families were just one big family.  
  
It occurred to Freddy to ask how Bonnie’s mom was, what with her recent loss and all, but instead he said, “I’ll have to ask mom and dad about it but they didn’t oppose to us going to France last year, so I doubt New York will be a problem.” It was true, after all.  
  
“True,” Bonnie echoed Freddy’s thoughts with a small laugh. “Night, Fred.”  
  
“Night, Bonnie,” Freddy said, then added sarcastically, “Give Foxy my love.” Then he hung up and slid off of his bed, turning to the door right as it opened and Goldie walked in, looking irritated. “Hey, Goldie, you were out late.”  
  
“I told you guys- all of you, mom and dad included- that tonight was a concert I wanted to go to,” Goldie immediately accused, dropping down onto his bed. “The only reason I didn’t get grounded is ‘cause I had the texts to prove it!”  
  
Freddy blinked and frowned. “I don’t remember that.”  
  
“It was two months ago, of course you didn’t,” Goldie snorted, laying down. “I didn’t even stay for the whole thing, either- it ends at midnight. I actually came home early because of school tomorrow.”  
  
“How responsible of you,” Freddy chuckled, secretly going through his text messages to try and find the text Goldie spoke of. He did find it and silently cursed himself for forgetting; Goldie loved that band, after all, of course he'd attend their concert.  
  
“Thank you!” Goldie sighed and pulled his blanket up over himself, turning over to face the wall. Freddy knew what that meant. “Well, I’m going to sleep.”  
  
“In your clothes?” Freddy frowned, raising a brow at his older-by-twenty-three-minutes brother. That was unlike him.  
  
“I’m too tired to change,” Goldie whined.  
  
“You’re gonna have marks in your fur in the morning, you know,” Freddy warned him.  
  
“Don’t care, sleeping now.”  
  
Freddy sighed and shook his head; clearly Goldie was upset. It was no use talking to him like this, so he just got up and crossed the room to the light switch. He flicked it down and made his way back to bed, crawling into his own bed and settling down to sleep. Goldie would be in a better mood in the morning.  
  
“Goodnight, Gold.” He, as expected, received no response.  
  
As he drifted off to sleep, unknown to him just a few neighborhoods away another bear lay curled up with his “sister” and slept fitfully, a small frown on his face as memories flitted through his mind’s eye.


	2. Beginning of a Long Year, Freddy

His alarm went off at precisely six o’clock. Freddy let out a soft groan and sat up, hitting the alarm. He looked across the room towards Goldie and saw he was still fast asleep, his own alarm not even turned on. _I’ll let him sleep longer_ , he decided, sliding out of bed and going over to the closet. He pulled out a pair of jeans and a simple polo before heading to the bathroom, stripping out of his nightclothes.  
  
Freddy turned the water on and waited for the water to warm up, humming softly to himself as he did. Once the water was warm enough, he stepped in and pulled the curtain shut, enjoying the feeling of the warm water running through his fur.   
  
He leaned against the shower wall and closed his eyes, thinking. There was a lot for him to think about; he was now a senior in highschool. It was the start of the rest of his life. He was almost an adult and after this year, the carefree days of staying up until midnight every night would be gone away. No more running around with his friends, tossing water balloons at each other and accidentally hitting a random passerby. No more vacations every holiday together, no more putting off assignments until the last minute. No more tackling each other to the ground and throwing each other in swimming pools, no more being able to spend every waking moment with his brother, no more _childhood_.

Soon they would all be expected to become serious, productive members of society. Go their separate ways, find someone to spend the rest of their lives with, maybe even have kids, and then their get-togethers would become fewer and further between until they only saw each other at the highschool reunions, reminiscing on all of their bygone days. Talk about the present, the future, introduce the people who had once been their entire world to the people who became their entire world and then not speak again for twenty-something years.  
  
Freddy didn’t want that. He didn’t want someone else to take his friends’ place. He didn’t want someone to take _his_ place. They were a family and the thought that they would all just move on until they were all nothing but fond memories- it physically _hurt_. Especially the thought that he and his brother would drift apart. They had been together literally since birth, why shouldn’t they be together until death? The thought of a stranger becoming more important to Goldie than he himself was… maybe it was selfish, but he didn’t like the thought. He wouldn’t care as much if someone like Bonnie or Chica or even Foxy had Goldie’s attention, but Freddy was sure that the only person who could ever get Goldie’s attention was someone none of them had met yet. And he hated the thought of a stranger coming between their brotherhood and their friendships.  
  
 _And_ , he thought bitterly, _it'll happen with me too. One day._  
  
With a frustrated huff, he pushed himself away from the wall and shook his head. “What am I thinking?” he asked himself with a scowl. “This is us I’m talkin’ about, that won’t ever happen.” _We’ve been friends forever. No one’s gonna come between us._  
  
His fur was long since soaked through, so he grabbed the soap and began rubbing it in, scrubbing at the skin under his fur as well. It was better to be completely clean rather than just surface-clean, after all.  
  
Once he was finished and thoroughly washed the suds out of his fur, he turned the taps off and slid out of the shower, grabbed a towel and began toweling off. He knew there was still plenty of time before school, so he grabbed the blow-dryer and began doing a quick-dry of his fur. Just enough to keep himself from getting cold when the wind blew.  
  
After dressing, he wandered downstairs. In the kitchen a short human lady was working on breakfast- from the ingredients sitting on the counter, it was to be scrambled eggs, grits, bacon, sausage, and toast. Freddy was fine with that. “G’mornin’, Miss Mattie Mae,” he greeted, getting the lady’s attention.  
  
“Mornin’, Freddy,” she greeted with a grin. “I was just about to start cookin’. It should be done by seven-ten, latest.” Freddy nodded in understanding.  
  
“Alright, I’ll make sure Goldie’s up before then,” he assured her, going over to the sink and grabbing a glass out of the cabinet. He filled it up with water and took a sip. “Actually, I think I’ll go wake him up now, he needs a shower.”  
  
“You do that, Freddy, and I’m gonna get started on these eggs.”  
  
With that, Freddy set his glass of water down on the counter and headed upstairs, back to his bedroom, and glanced at the clock next to his bed. 6:46. “Goldie, get up!” he called over, turning to look at his brother and crossing his arms.  
  
“No,” the golden bear groaned, pulling his blanket up over his head. “Too early, call back later.” Freddy rolled his eyes.  
  
“Too early? School’s in less than an hour and you still need to shower!”  
  
“School?” The other bear’s voice was groggy with sleep and sounded somewhat confused. _Did he really forget?_ Goldie shifted the blanket down again and blinked out into the sunlit room, frowning in thought. “School? School… Oh!” He pushed himself up and shook his head. “School starts today.”  
  
Freddy almost laughed at his brother. “Yes. It does.” He frowned even more as he watched his golden twin climb out of bed, his clothes wrinkled and the four buttons at the top loosened- the top one missing, Freddy noted in displeasure- and one sleeve slipping off of his shoulder. “Your clothes are a mess, brother.”  
  
Goldie walked over to the closet with a dismissive wave. “Doesn’t matter,” he started, “not like I was wearin’ these to school anyway.”  
  
“True,” Freddy agreed begrudgingly. He sighed. “Miss Mattie Mae is workin’ on breakfast right now, she said it’ll be done by seven-ten.”  
  
“Got it, so no more than a twenty minute shower. I can swing that.”  
  
Freddy snorted. “Good luck with that,” he called to his brother before the bathroom door closed. “Right, twenty minutes to get all that fur washed, won’t even have time to blow-dry it,” he scoffed to himself, heading back downstairs towards the breakfast nook off the side of the kitchen. He grabbed his water as he passed and slid into his normal spot on the bench-seat, humming to himself as he listened to the sizzling of bacon.   
  
Being in the comfort of his own home, he liked to think that there was no way whatsoever that anything could go wrong. _Just enjoy life while it’s here_ , he told himself, closing his eyes and leaning against his hand. _Live in the now. Your future isn’t set in stone._  
  
He had never been a big believer in fate, anyway.

* * *

As he stepped into the classroom, his eyes zeroed in on the group of friends across the room. It was a group of five much like their own, except they had a second rabbit rather than a second bear and were a lot more separated from the rest of the students. Freddy had always found them… strange, to say the least; their schedules were always somehow perfectly matched up and he had never seen any of them without at least one of the others. They also never seemed to notice when other people were watching them or trying to ask them anything.   
  
The only time he had ever seen them acknowledge anyone was when they had to partner up with another outcast or- much more commonly- they would sometimes acknowledge and return Freddy’s friends’ gestures of dislike.   
  
They were a tight circle circle of friends who had, at some point, realized that the Fazcrew didn’t like them and began returning the feeling tenfold. Honestly, they had been about two or three years late on the uptake and many times their disinterest in the world outside of their bubble caused them to completely miss a comment or gesture towards them, but when they did notice it they gave back just as good as they got. Which only made Bonnie and Foxy that much more annoyed and determined to dislike them _more_.   
  
Personally, Freddy found it all ridiculous and petty; it wasn’t like “Springtrap” or his “gang” had ever done anything to them. At least, never unprovoked… and never a direct or public confrontation.  
  
Hell, Freddy couldn’t even remember one instance where they had ever actually even _spoken_ to them.  
  
However, Freddy didn’t make any complaints. After all, his friends typically weren’t the kind of people to dislike someone for no reason at all and even he had to admit that the other group of students was strange, much too isolated for a group of teenagers. No clubs, never attended school functions, always declined to participate in class activities, skipped classes at random and sometimes skipped entire days consecutively, often passed in half-completed or no homework at all…   
  
To put it flatly, they were a mess and Freddy had no idea how they passed every year.  
  
These thoughts took Freddy hardly ten seconds as he sat down beside Goldie. “Relax,” he started towards Bonnie, remembering his complaint about being switched into art. “It won’t be so bad.” He would have much preferred to be switched into a creative writing class, but a drawing class wasn’t all that bad so long as he was with his friends. Just ignore the fact that he himself could barely draw a decent stick figure…  
  
“Yeah, I think art will be an easy A,” Goldie agreed, waving a hand dismissively. “But damn, gym- that teacher was rude as hell. That warm-up was brutal and the teacher didn’t even care that a kid started having an asthma attack? Like geez, poor kid could’ve died.”  
  
Freddy frowned at the memory and shook his head. “Well, at least his friend was willing to just walk out with him, a good friend to have,” he pointed out, earning a nod from his brother. He looked towards the board where _Advanced Senior Science_ was scrawled in bright red ink. “I wonder what goes on in this class,” he mentioned, changing the subject. He figured it was just coincidence that across the room, the blue rabbit was asking the same thing.  
  
“Who knows,” Bonnie said. “This definitely isn’t chemistry.”  
  
“Looks like chemistry will be part of it, though,” Chica spoke up finally. Freddy looked over at her and saw both she and Goldie were looking towards the back of the room, so he turned around to look back there as well. The lab stations did seem to be equipped with chemistry materials but he knew chemistry wasn’t the only subject that used beakers. The Bunsen burner, though, he wasn’t exactly sure.  
  
“Yeah,” Bonnie agreed as the bear twins turned back around to face him. Bonnie looked at Freddy, a small grin on his lips. “So who’s gonna be whose partner this year?”  
  
 _Why look to me, Bonnie? You already know I’ll be with Goldie_ , Freddy mentally laughed. Aloud, he said, “Whoever you want. It’s not like I’ll be choosin’, ya know.”  
  
Next to him, Goldie piped up with, “I call dibs on Freddy.” Freddy and the others all laughed at that because it was a given. No one was closer than Freddy and Goldie; they did everything together. Well, almost. They weren’t _exactly_ the same. He watched as Goldie looked around the room. “But hey, looks like the other people in class are… uh… people none of us get along with. Huh.” Freddy almost snorted, glancing back towards the four humans. One was the school outcast who had no friends and spoke only to others who were “separate” from the school- that, of course, being “Springtrap” and friends. The three other humans weren’t bottom-rung but they were barely clinging to middle rung and they did not like the Fazcrew at all. Freddy was still trying to figure out what they did to offend them. He had a feeling it was Bonnie and Goldie’s faults, though.  
  
“Alright, then settle down class.” Freddy looked forward again, raising a brow at the sight of the blue-eyed, green-haired man standing at the front of the room. “I am Doctor Mike Schmidt and this year I am your science teacher. This year, things will be different.”  
  
 _Different how?_ He wondered, frowning at the human.   
  
“In the past,” Dr. Schmidt continued, “I know you have always been allowed to choose your own partners, but in my experience I’ve found there is a lot less messing around and procrastination when partners are assigned.”  
  
 _Ah. Okay_. He frowned and glanced at Goldie. _Sorry, Gold, looks like we won’t be together this year_. Of course he was sure he hated that more than Goldie did.  
  
“So this year, I will be assigning your partners.”  
  
 _Thanks, doctor obvious, we picked up on that already…_  
  
“I have already assigned everyone their partners and you cannot switch out partners.” _Nice_. “I have partnered everyone up for specific reasons, and this is the partner you will have all year long.” _Are you gonna explain your reasons? Hello? Details, please, Doctor_. “You will sit beside each other in the classroom, when we are in the lab you will work together at your station, and you will be expected to work outside of the classroom as well.” _That’s a given_. “Basically, your lab partner in this class will be the person every assignment in this class, minus your exams, will be done with. Whether you call each other or meet up in person is up to you.” _This will be a long year._  
  
From the corner of his eye he noticed Goldie looking at him. He didn’t look back at his brother, instead watching as Dr. Schmidt picked a clipboard up off of his desk and began making notes. The silence continued for several moments before the green-haired man hummed in satisfaction and looked up at them.  
  
“Alright. Gather your stuff, everyone. And stand back near the lab stations. You can choose your own seats, but you must be sitting next to your partner.”  
  
Freddy did as they were bade, making his way towards the lab tables. He barely glanced at the unpopular group, mentally noting their wary and almost-panicked expressions. It looked like they were getting ready for a firing squad to come in as they unconsciously huddled together near the wall. The only one of them who seemed to be aware of where he was standing was Alfred Fischbach, who stood between his friends and the rest of the class with a neutral expression, but Freddy did catch his wary glance their way.  
  
Once everyone had become still, waiting for what Dr. Schmidt would do next, the man looked down at his clipboard again.   
  
“Alright now,” Dr. Schmidt hummed, smiling at all of them. “First, Bonito Rodriguez and Bonnie Henderson.” Freddy let out a slight wince as both rabbits hissed; _it just had to be those two, didn’t it?_ He watched Bonnie stalk to the front of the classroom and to the pair of desks by the door, dropping his bag and sitting in the desk on the left. Rodriguez followed, clearly unhappy.  
  
“Marion Marshal and Malesha Jacks.” The school outcast and one of the girls silently made their way to the desks in back, next to the windows. Freddy didn’t pay them any more mind, focusing on the teacher again. “Freddy Fazbear and Alfred Fischbach.”  
  
 _So that’s how this is gonna be_ , Freddy mused to himself as he approached the desk two rows behind Bonnie. He knew his friends would understand why he was leaving the gap; he still wanted to be close to his brother, after all.  
  
Fischbach sat down next to him but neither said nor did anything. Ahead of them, Freddy could see Rodriguez nervously messing with his pencil. “Vivien Blanc and Drew Jones.” This time he didn’t wince as the foxes both growled, heading to the seats in front and to the left of Freddy. Foxy sat in the right seat, diagonal from him. _So he did catch on. Good._  
  
“Leah Stuart and Jackie Johnson.” The two girls let out a small cheer and he could hear their hands connect in a high five while, ahead of them, the blue rabbit next to Bonnie let his head fall against the desk. He seemed frustrated. He had probably been hoping his friends wouldn’t get stuck with Freddy’s. “Frederick Fazbear and Spring Salvage.”  
  
 _That’s Springtrap’s real name?_ He wondered to himself, watching his twin take a seat in front of him. Salvage was much slower and slipped into his seat carefully. He looked extremely uneasy. From the corner of his eye, he just barely caught Fischbach’s frown.  
  
Chica and the other chicken were already taking their seats in front of Foxy and Blanc by the time Dr. Schmidt called out, “Francisca Sanchez and Charlotte Kain.”  
  
Up ahead Rodriguez turned around to look at Salvage, but Freddy didn’t pay them any mind, instead watching Bonnie lean over to whisper something to Chica. “Mr. Rodriguez, turn around please,” Dr. Schmidt called, prompting Bonnie to sit up straight as well before he could be called out. “Now, I know all of you know each other-” in front of Freddy, Goldie let out a derisive snort. Freddy frowned disapprovingly at him. “-but this is my first year at this school and I don’t know any of you. So, I want all of you to fill out this questionnaire about your partner, which you will then read aloud to the class.”  
  
 _Wonderful_ , he thought to himself, waiting patiently for the questionnaire sheet to be passed back to him. Goldie turned around almost in sync with the rabbit next to him and, as Freddy took his questionnaire, he couldn’t help but glance over at them. Salvage looked… not too well, actually. In fact he looked almost panicky. He watched as Fischbach’s neutral expression dropped into concern and, as he took the paper from his friend, laid his hand across the other’s for a split second. It was apparently enough to convey whatever Fischbach was meaning as the rabbit gave him a weak, but grateful, smile and turned back around. Freddy’s gaze returned to Goldie in time to see him shrug and turn around himself.  
  
Freddy looked down at the questionnaire, frowning to himself. He knew only one of the answers and that… was the other’s name. He knew literally _nothing_ else.  
  
 _My New Lab Partner!_  
  
 _Name:_  
 _Nickname(s):_  
 _DOB:_  
 _Places You’ve Lived:_  
 _Future Plans:_  
 _Interests/Hobbies:_  
 _Favourite Colour:_  
 _Favourite Band/Musician:_  
 _Phone #_  
 _Cell:_  
 _Landline:_  
  
He frowned and wrote down Alfred Fischbach, not stumbling at all over the name. He laughed silently to himself as he thought about the fact that Bonnie would have had to ask how to spell that… actually, he’d probably have to ask how to spell Rodriguez, too. _Oh Bonnie_. He kept his eyes trained on his paper as he asked, “Do you have any nicknames, Fischbach?” Polite and distanced. _Perfect._

However, the other bear didn’t respond for several moments. He frowned sharply and looked over at Fischbach, who was watching him with a blank expression- no, it wasn’t exactly blank. He looked frustrated, his brow slightly creased and a glare in his eye. _Geez, I don’t like this any more than you do, but you don’t have to be so rude about it._  
  
“No,” the bear finally said, his expression relaxing slightly as he did so. Freddy raised a brow. If he didn’t know any better, he’d have said the bear was struggling to _speak_.

“Neither do I,” he informed the bear, writing _N/A_ on the nicknames line. He glanced at the next question. “I was born on August 26th, 1998.”  
  
He looked back at Fischbach in time to notice a frustrated scowl forming on the other’s lips. All neutrality seemed to have been dropped as the other bear’s frustration grew, his brows drawn together and… he looked embarrassed, ashamed, and frustrated all at once. Finally, he managed to say, “Two, four, ‘99.”  
  
 _February 4th, 1999. He really is struggling to speak. Is it a form of selective mutism_? He actually felt… bad for the younger bear. He seemed so upset by all of this and there was no way many of these questions could be spun into yes/no. Freddy noted the birthdate down and glanced at the next question. _Well, that one can be_. He didn’t know if it would upset the other further, but he _did_ know it would make it easier, so he asked, “Have you lived anywhere other than Durmont?” He looked back up at the bear. He knew the way he phrased the question made it obvious to Fischbach that Freddy had already figured his speaking problem out. He shook his head “no” and Freddy simply wrote down _Durmont_. “Me neither.”  
  
Fischbach nodded and wrote the information down. Freddy looked at the next question. _It’s a good thing I’m patient, huh?_ “I plan to attend a music academy in California,” he informed, though he was sure everyone in their school already knew this. Freddy looked over at him as he wrote the answer down and noticed Fischbach’s eyes flick over to him.   
  
The younger seemed to be struggling with himself again but this time Freddy was expecting it. He watched as the bear finally glanced away with a noncommittal shrug. Whether that was an _I don’t know_ or _I give up_ motion Freddy wasn’t sure, but he wrote _undecided_ on the line anyway. No point in making Fischbach feel worse.  
  
“I enjoy music, reading, and writing,” Freddy went ahead and answered the next line. A few moments of silence passed before the other bear managed to get his words out.  
  
“Writing, friends,” Fischbach said. He looked like he wanted to say more, maybe explain his answer better, but he quickly gave up. That was alright, though; Freddy understood. He wrote down _writing, being with friends_. “Blue,” Fischbach suddenly added, and it took Freddy a moment to realize Fischbach was going ahead and answering the next line.  
  
“Huh… same,” Freddy noted, writing down blue on the favourite colour line. Blue really _was_ his favourite colour. Rather funny, considering his brother’s favourite colour was its compliment. “My favourite musician…” Wow, _that_ was a tough one. “Hm…” Who _was_ his favourite musician? _Ah well_. “George Beckham,” he decided. He looked over at Fischbach as he noted the artist down.  
  
Fischbach was frowning, his eyes trained on his paper. He apparently didn’t want to see whatever expression Freddy was wearing- probably a pride thing, Freddy figured. “G…” the other bear trailed off. He tried again with, “Gio…” and this time he trailed off with a low growl of frustration. Freddy felt slightly concerned for the bear; this was something that would get in the way of everyday life, after all. “Giovanni,” he finally managed, and Freddy was pretty sure no one should be saying their favourite musician with _that_ amount of loathing.  
  
Unless the loathing was meant for Freddy or, worse, _himself_.  
  
It was just one name and Freddy could think of at least three Giovannis it could be, but Fischbach didn’t offer a last name and he didn’t ask for one. The other was still refusing to look at him, but even from there Freddy could see how upset all of this had made the bear. How embarrassed he was.  
  
Freddy frowned slightly as his eyes landed on the next line. He did not want to force the other to string a bunch of numbers together but at the same time he didn’t want to risk offending him. He glanced back at the other bear and saw his brow furrowed and a frustrated frown on his face; apparently Fischbach recognized the problem here too.  
  
He felt bad for the bear. He supposed that the feeling was called pity, but he knew the bear didn’t want pity. If he did he wouldn’t be avoiding eye contact, trying to pretend this wasn’t as big of a problem as it really was. He wouldn’t look like this was something he’d been trying to hide.  
  
It occurred to Freddy that, technically, he’d known Fischbach since kindergarten. That was nearly _thirteen years_. Twelve years and he had never even realized his classmate was having problems? No wonder Fischbach never spoke to anyone but his friends- he practically literally _couldn’t._ He made a decision.  
  
He lightly tapped the other bear’s arm, startling him and getting him to look up. He didn’t say anything, just slid his questionnaire sheet over and tapped the cell line. He knew his meaning was clear enough; _write it down._ Fischbach offered his own paper in turn and Freddy took it as Fischbach accepted his and they both wrote their numbers down, silent. He left the landline blank- he always had his sound on and he didn’t want to disturb his parents- and passed it back over as Fischbach handed his back.  
  
Fischbach had also left the landline blank, he noticed as he set it and his pen down on his desk. That was understandable, though. “I’m gonna guess calling isn’t the best course of action?” he questioned, raising a brow at the other bear. Fischbach nodded in confirmation and Freddy nodded absently, turning back to the front of the classroom.  
  
 _He seems neutral_ , Freddy noted to himself. _Maybe he thinks all of this is ridiculous, too_. Only the pair of human girls who were actually friends still spoke, chatting happily as Dr. Schmidt walked around the room. Everyone else was in a tense silence. He glanced back at Fischbach, watching as he frowned to himself, eyes trained on Bonnie and Rodriguez, and absently rubbed at his wrist.   
  
As the fur was pulled back, Freddy noticed something. It wasn’t visible through his fur as it was fading and probably old, but he could just barely make out on the other bear’s skin a purple bruise. He couldn’t catch much in the glimpse but he did notice that it spread out on the side and extended underneath his wrist whereas it was large and splotchy on top.  
  
It looked almost like a hand.  
  
No… it looked a _lot_ like a hand.  
  
Freddy frowned sharply and looked back towards the front of the classroom. _Maybe his speech problem isn’t his_ only _problem._

* * *

 _My New Lab Partner!_  
  
 _Name_ : Alfred Fischbach  
 _Nickname(s)_ : N/A  
 _DOB_ : February 4th, 1999  
 _Places You’ve Lived_ : Durmont  
 _Future Plans_ : Undecided  
 _Interests/Hobbies_ : Writing, being with friends  
 _Favourite Colour_ : Blue  
 _Favourite Band/Musician_ : Giovanni  
 _Phone #_  
     _Cell_ : 346-5621  
   _Landline:_


	3. Beginning of a Long Year, Alfred

Alfred slowly opened his bright blue eyes. His gaze landed on the clock by the bed, seeing it was barely five in the morning. He felt exhausted and wanted to do nothing more than close his eyes and go back to sleep, but he knew school was today and if he wanted to be ready by the time their friends showed up, he needed to start getting ready now.  
  
Slowly, he sat up on the pink and lavender bed, shifting the blanket off of himself. His “sister” still slept peacefully beside him with her stuffies against the wall, undisturbed by his movement as he slid out of her bed. It was a familiar routine; for as long as he could remember, when he stayed at one of his friends’ homes- or vice versa- they all shared beds, even Chii. They were close as brothers and sisters, it was all completely innocent and it offered them a comfort they otherwise did not have.  
  
Stretching, he crept over to Chii’s door and cracked it open, looking out and listening carefully. The only sounds in the house was the house settling on its foundation. He quietly made his way down the hall, peeking in the open master-bedroom door. It was empty.  
  
Relaxing, the bear headed back to Chii’s room to grab his clothes and went to Chii’s bathroom. A quick look in the linen closet revealed that Chii still had the soaps he, Blu, and Mangle all used, and he grabbed one of them. He set it on the tub’s edge and turned the taps on, waiting patiently for the water to turn warm as he stripped himself of his clothes and tossed them carefully on the counter. He didn’t want to knock Chii’s grooming items and her makeup over.   
  
He chuckled as he turned the showerhead on and stepped in, thinking of how Blu and Chii loved doing each other’s makeup. They couldn’t use each other’s, as Blu’s was made for fur and Chii’s for feather, but they always liked getting together and doing the other’s makeup anyway. As he scrubbed his fur, he remembered the one time they had convinced Spring and Mangle to allow them to do _their_ makeup, too; Spring had hated it and Mangle had _loved_ it and wore it every day since. Alfred had never once been dragged into that mess, thankfully.  
  
He rinsed the soap out and turned the shower and taps off before stepping out of the tub, picking up a towel and quickly towel-drying his fur. He didn’t bother blow-drying his fur- he didn’t often do so, considering he didn’t have one at home- and instead tugged his clothes on over his damp fur and exited the bathroom, dirty clothes bundled up in his arms.   
  
Hearing movement from inside Chii’s room, he knocked softly. Sister or not, he didn’t want to walk in on her changing. That was just _rude_.  
  
“It’s safe,” Chii called and Alfred slipped inside, setting his clothes on her dresser. “I’ll get you a bag for those, you can come by later to pick them up,” Chii told him and he nodded slightly, giving her a small smile.  
  
“Thank you, Chii,” he managed to say.  
  
“Never a problem!” she chirped, giving him a _very_ brief hug before picking up her own clothes and heading to the bathroom. Alfred sighed softly and sat down at her desk, pushing her curtains aside to look out at the morning darkness. It was only a little past 5:30; the sun would not be coming up for almost another hour or so.   
  
The bear picked his phone up and noticed there was a message from WhatsApp. He opened it up.  
  
‘Im fine Ill b ther tmr.’  
  
Alfred felt a flood of relief wash over him at seeing the message from Mangle. He quickly typed, ‘Good, we’ll be waiting for you.’ He sighed and set the phone down on the desk, leaning on his hand. _Thank goodness._  
  
Closing his eyes, he listened to the quiet peace around him. He could hear the shower running from the bathroom but it didn’t really bother him; it was a nice change from the sound of heavy footsteps and rummaging through empty glass bottles.  
  
When Chii returned, she was humming happily to herself and he smiled. “Mangle messaged,” he informed her. He wanted to say more. He needed to say more, but it was a struggle. Finally, though, he managed to add, “They will be here.”  
  
“Awesome!” Chii smiled brightly, though worry did show in her eyes. Alfred frowned. He wanted to ask her if she was okay, wanted to tell her that everything would be alright, but… he couldn’t get the words to form. “I’ll make some lunches to go for all of us.”  
  
He wanted to say so many things- that it was okay, he could make his own or eat whatever the cafeteria was serving that day, that he was fine, she needn’t go through so much trouble for him, concentrate on the others- but the words wouldn’t come and he was left watching her make her way down the hall, unable to even protest as she wasn’t looking at him. With a quiet sigh, he laid his head down on his arms and waited.  
  
Around 6:10, Chii poked her head back in. “Mangle’s here,” she told him and he nodded, standing up and grabbing his bag. He followed his friend down the hall and to the front door, stepping outside onto the porch. Mangle was sitting on the steps, hunched over and arms crossing over their stomach. Frowning, Alfred approached (on their left) and knelt down beside them. He very gently laid a hand on Mangle’s shoulder, prompting them to look up at him.  
  
Mangle forced a grin. “Hey, Al,” they greeted. “I’m sorry, I’m fine. It just hurts a bit is all. I-I’m fine.”  
  
Alfred wasn’t convinced but he nodded anyway, gently patting their shoulder. “I’m glad,” he said simply and Mangle nodded. He knew Mangle knew he didn’t buy it.  
  
“Thanks, Alfred,” Mangle laughed, wincing as they did so. They turned their gaze towards the road and forced themself to sit up right, looking casual. Alfred wondered if it was okay to let Mangle attend school today. _Maybe we should take them to Spring’s house, they aren’t in very good shape today_. He wanted to voice those words but they couldn’t get past the thought stage, wouldn't reach his throat or his tongue.  
  
Finally he just nodded and let out a breath, standing up and leaning against the wall next to the door. He watched the road, barely noticing when his phone vibrated. Pulling it out, he noticed it was a video from Spring. He smiled slightly as he noticed the small golden rabbit, his excited face staring up at the camera. _At least someone is happy._

* * *

Alfred sat, silently watching in amusement, as his friends laughed and Spring took his math sheet from Blu. “What?” Spring was asking, looking amused and confused. “C’mon, Blu, you should know better than to stereotype genders. I mean, just look at you and me.”  
  
He couldn’t help but laugh with his friends at that. It felt nice, laughing- one of the few sounds he could force as easily as it naturally slipped.  
  
“He has a point,” Chii said, giggling at their blue friend. “How many times have you been mistaken for a girl since, what, middle school?” They laughed more because it was true. In fact, if Alfred’s memory served him right, every year there was that _one_ classmate who, the moment they found out Blu was a guy, would get _so_ confused. He didn’t think the others really noticed, though; he was pretty sure he was the only one that paid any attention to the people around them.  
  
Just like he knew he was the only one to notice when the Fazcrew walked into the classroom barely a minute before.  
  
“Aw, shucks, guys, I know I’m fabulous but ya don’t gotta rub it in~” Blue sang quietly, grinning at them. Alfred chuckled and shook his head. “Anyway,” Blu continued, glancing away from them and towards the front of the room, where the whiteboard read ‘Advanced Senior Science.’ “Advanced senior science, yeah? What does that even mean?”  
  
Mangle’s ears twitched as they answered, “I think it’s lab-based. I glanced through the textbook on the way in, there’s a lot of different sciences in it. I saw physics, biology, and chemistry in my little… um, glance.”  
  
 _Yeah. Glance._  
  
“You saw a lot of stuff for it being a glance,” Spring snorted, leaning over to replace his worksheet. The rabbit glanced back at Mangle, raising a brow. “When’d you even do that? Weren’t you right behind us in the door?”  
  
“It’s called I paused, Springy,” Mangle deadpanned, earning laughs from the Alfred, Blu, and Chii.  
  
“Well, duh,” Spring rolled his eyes. “I was just-”  
  
“Alright, then, settle down class,” a voice interrupted. Alfred looked towards the front of the classroom, raising a brow when he caught sight of dyed-green hair and bright blue eyes. _How curious, is this our science teacher?_ In front of him, the rabbits’ gazes wandered across the room. He kept his own gaze on the instructor, already knowing what they would find. Knowing neither of them would like it.  
  
The class did settle down after a moment or two. “I am Doctor Mike Schmidt and this year I am your science teacher,” the man introduced himself. “This year, things will be different.” Alfred frowned; he already didn’t like the sound of this. “In the past I know you have always been allowed to choose your own partners, but in my experience I’ve found there is a lot less messing around and procrastination when partners are assigned.” Yes, he _really_ did not like this.  
  
“So this year, I will be assigning your partners.”  
  
 _Not good_. Alfred turned his own blue eyes to Spring, noticing that Blu did the same. Alfred couldn’t see the golden rabbit’s expression but Blu bit his lower lip and looked to him and he knew it wasn’t good. He reached forward, gently touching his hand to his older friend’s shoulder; Spring jumped and turned around to look at him. He really didn’t look good at all, with wide eyes and flattened ears. Alfred frowned at him, worried, and Spring gave him a forced smile before turning back around.  
  
 _I hope he doesn’t have an anxiety attack_ , he thought, exchanging a glance with Mangle beside him. He turned his attention back to Dr. Schmidt.  
  
“I have already assigned everyone their partners and you cannot switch out partners,” the human was saying and right then Alfred felt a strange desire to flip him off. _Weird, never felt that way before_. “I have partnered everyone up for specific reasons, and this is the partner you will have all year long. You will sit beside each other in the classroom, when we are in the lab you will work together at your station, and you will be expected to work outside of the classroom as well. Basically, your lab partner in this class will be the person every assignment in this class, minus your exams, will be done with. Whether you call each other or meet up in person is up to you.”  
  
 _Well this sounds fun. Not. Why are you doing this to us, Dr. Schmidt?_  
  
He watched his friends, his own face a blank slate of neutrality. His friends weren’t reacting as well as he was; he could see Blu’s hand and ears twitching, Spring was holding his wrist, Mangle’s leg was bouncing up and down, and Chii was fidgeting with her fingers and tapping her toes on the floor.  
  
They were all anxious and, though he hated to admit it, so was he. _There’s not much chance we’ll be together, is there?_  
  
“Alright. Gather your stuff, everyone,” Dr. Schmidt called, picking up his clipboard and glancing at it. “And stand back near the lab stations. You can choose your own seats, but you must be sitting next to your partner.”  
  
Alfred stood up from his seat and followed his friends to the back, casting a wary glance at the Fazcrew. Deliberately, he placed himself between his friends- specifically Spring- and the rest of the class, with Chii and Mangle behind them and Blu in front of them. He frowned and watched Dr. Schmidt pace, and then the green-haired man turned to face them.  
  
“Alright now,” he hummed, looking at his clipboard. “First, Bonito Rodriguez and Bonnie Henderson.” Both rabbits hissed quietly and Alfred watched as they made their way over to the first row near the door. He didn’t fail to notice Henderson claim the left desk, leaving Blu with the desk closest to the door. _So we’re gonna be separated from someone, most likely_. “Marion Marshal and Malesha Jacks.” He hardly even glanced at the two humans, choosing instead to glance towards his friends. He was worried. “Freddy Fazbear and Alfred Fischbach.”  
  
He looked at Spring. His friend looked worried- _extremely_ worried. Alfred’s brows drew together and he reached out, lightly setting a comforting hand on Spring’s shoulder, before following Fazbear. He sat two rows behind Blu. Neither he nor Fazbear said or did anything, just sat there and waited.   
  
“Vivien Blanc and Drew Jones.” Alfred just barely picked up on Mangle’s hiss as it was almost drowned out by Jones’ growl. He watched as they took the seats to the left of the desks in front of them. “Leah Stuart and Jackie James.” Two rows in front of him, Alfred watched Blu’s head fall onto his desk. He understood.  
  
 _Please, if there is a god, let Spring be with Chii._  
  
“Frederick Fazbear and Spring Salvage.”  
  
 _I knew you weren’t real. Dammit._  
  
Alfred frowned as Spring hesitantly took the seat in front of him.   
  
“Francisca Sanchez and Charlotte Kain.”  
  
He paid no attention, though, as both chickens had already been taking their seat to the left of the rabbits by the time their names were called. Instead he focused on Spring and Blu’s silent conversation. He couldn’t see Spring’s face but Blu looked worried and unconvinced.  
  
“Mr. Rodriguez, turn around please.” Blu did as he was told, turning around to face forward again with a roll of his eyes. “Now, I know all of you know each other-” from in front of him, the golden bear snorted derisively and Alfred almost laughed bitterly. _No we don’t_. “-but this is my first year at this school and I don’t know any of you. So, I want all of you to fill out this questionnaire about your partner, which you will then read aloud to the class.”  
  
Blu handed the sheets back (giving Alfred a worried look) and Spring turned around, looking at Alfred desperately. Alfred frowned, his ears twitching and his brows drawing together, losing their neutrality. How could he possibly help the rabbit? All he could do was offer him comfort, so that was what he did. As he took the paper from rabbit, he let his hand brush over Spring’s; it was the closest he could come to any real physical comfort, what with the Fazbear twins watching them and Dr. Schmidt at the front of the classroom waiting for them to start. Spring gave him a small, grateful smile before turning back around. His ears were still drooping and Alfred just watched him sadly, knowing that it wasn't nearly good enough.  
  
He finally turned his gaze to the sheet of paper in his hands. It was a typical questionnaire and it didn’t look like it would be too hard to do. It made him feel like a middle schooler again.  
  
 _My New Lab Partner!_  
  
 _Name:_  
 _Nickname(s):_  
 _DOB:_  
 _Places You’ve Lived:_  
 _Future Plans:_  
 _Interests/Hobbies:_  
 _Favourite Colour:_  
 _Favourite Band/Musician:_  
 _Phone #_  
 _Cell:_  
 _Landline:_  
  
He glanced over at Fazbear to see him writing down his name. He was almost happy to see the bear spelled his name right. Almost. Alfred in turn wrote the other bear’s name down, not knowing and not really caring whether or not Freddy was his real name. It was what Dr. Schmidt called out, after all.  
  
“Do you have any nicknames, Fischbach?” Fazbear questioned, sounding both distanced and polite. Alfred simply shook his head. Upon not hearing pen against paper, he glanced over and realized the other bear wasn’t looking at him and had missed his response. He’d have to give a verbal answer.  
  
For one horrible moment he couldn’t speak; it was one simple word, one word and one syllable and he couldn’t _say it_ , _Alfred, say it_ and now Fazbear was giving him a strange look, a sharp frown on his face, clearly believing Alfred rude for not responding. Alfred tried not to look as frustrated as he felt as he fought to find the word, tried not to make his struggle obvious- and then the word _finally_ formed on his tongue and he said, “No.”  
  
Fazbear watched him, one brow quirked, before saying, “Neither do I.” Alfred looked down at his page and wrote N/A on that line. “I was born on August 26th, 1998.”   
  
_Oh god no, he’s speaking in full sentences- I can’t, I can’t even appear neutral or polite like this._  
  
He struggled for a moment, a small scowl reaching his lips. He was aware that Fazbear was watching him now. _It’s not hard, Alfred. February fourth. Just say it. February fourth, nineteen ninety-nine... Fuck, I’m never gonna get that much out. But maybe… agh…_ he continued struggling for a moment before finally managing, “Two, four, ‘99.” He hardly glanced at Fazbear; he _hated_ the expression on the other bear’s face- it was realization. _Dammit, he’s already figured it out_. It was so much easier to hide when no one but his friends spoke to him. And it was so much easier to speak with them.  
  
“Have you lived anywhere other than Durmont?” Fazbear asked and Alfred _almost_ wanted to cry; it was a yes/no question. He had _definitely_ figured it out. He shook his head “no.” _At least he isn’t mocking me for it. That’s… nice, I guess._ “Me neither.” He nodded his understanding and noted it down. He glanced at the next question. There was no way that it could be spun into a yes/no question, and even if it could he wasn’t sure how to respond anyway. “I plan to attend a music academy in California.” Alfred already knew that but, obviously, he didn’t mention it as he wrote the answer down. He glanced up, noticing the bear was still watching him. Waiting for his answer. _How can this guy be so patient with someone he hates?!_  
  
And what was he supposed to say, anyway? _Just get the hell away from my drunk-ass dad and neglectful mom and work the rest of my life away?_ Well, he probably would word it as “get away and work” if he did try and say that, but… still. He didn’t have any particular school in mind- he wasn’t even sure he would _go_ to school- and he was already writing short stories for entertainment journals so that his family didn’t get evicted. There was nothing _to_ say because he didn’t know what he _could_ say. So, finally, with a frustrated frown he shrugged, glancing aside.  
  
He didn’t know if Fazbear believed that to be his real answer or if he believed Alfred just gave up trying to say it, but he wrote down _undecided_ on the line.  
  
“I enjoy music, reading, and writing,” Fazbear informed him and he nodded, noting this down. _Weird, me too_ , he thought to himself.   
  
He decided to not admit his love for music, instead letting the words, “Writing, friends,” slip out. He couldn’t say much more- he couldn’t even explain what he meant. However, Fazbear seemed to understand as he wrote down _writing, being with friends_ on the hobbies and interests line. He managed to force out, “Blue,” in answer to the next line.  
  
“Huh… same,” Fazbear admitted. Alfred raised a brow at that but noted it down. He was starting to notice that they had a bit in common. “My favourite musician... hm… George Beckham.”  
  
It was an artist Alfred didn’t recognize. He wrote the name down and frowned, trying to think of who his was. He could go simple and say Jan J, but he wasn’t as big a fan of them as Spring or even Blu was. No, he already knew exactly who he was going with, but how in the world could he say the name?  
  
“G…” he tried, frowning as his voice stilled. “Gio…” He gave a low, frustrated growl to himself and almost reached up to his forehead, stilling his hand before it could even leave his desk. _Way to go, Alfred, let him see how much you’re struggling_. Fazbear was watching him, he could feel the other’s gaze on him, but he didn’t look at the bear- he didn’t want to see the amusement or worse, the pity. He saw it too often from teachers when he and his friends explained why they shouldn’t call on him in class, saw it too often from visiting relatives, from the social workers who checked in on his family every other month. He hated the pitying looks and he did not need that from Freddy fucking Fazbear. “Giovanni,” he finally managed, not bothering with giving a last name. Fazbear didn’t ask for one. Alfred still didn’t look at him.  
  
Instead, he stared at the next line. He couldn’t even get a simple word out of his mouth, how was he supposed to string a bunch of numbers together? Apparently, though, his frustration showed. Fazbear tapped his arm and finally he looked at the older bear. Fazbear was frowning slightly, his brows drawn together in concern. However, Alfred was relieved to see that there was no pity in his blue eyes. Fazbear slid his paper over to him and tapped the cell line; apparently he had also realized that there was no way Alfred could manage to get the numbers out verbally. Alfred wasn't sure whether to be embarrassed, ashamed, or grateful. Silently, he offered his own paper to Fazbear and they exchanged the pages, writing their own numbers down on the line before handing them back.   
  
“I’m gonna guess calling isn’t the best course of action?” Fazbear asked, raising a brow at him. If Alfred hadn’t been more neutral about the Fazcrew than his friends were, he probably would have taken this as mocking. However, he realized it was a genuine inquiry and he nodded a confirmation. If one of his friends called he could speak… easily enough, sort of, but he knew if Fazbear called him he probably wouldn’t even be able to manage a greeting.  
  
 _He seems to have a more neutral viewpoint on all of this as well_ , Alfred noted to himself as Fazbear turned his gaze to the front of the room. By now only one group still talked; the pair of girls who were actually friends.  
  
He frowned as he noticed Blu, tense and ears flattened, staring towards the door. _I’ll have to ask what happened later_. The strange side looks Henderson was giving him only made him that much more worried. _Did that rabbit notice anything_? He absently rubbed at his own wrist, eyes on his blue friend. He had no doubt in his mind that he was in pain. _Probably not. They’re not that observant._  
  
 _Then again, Fazbear understood really quickly that I can’t talk well_ … he glanced towards the bear, who was frowning to himself and leaning on his hand as he stared at the front of the room. _They might be more observant than we’re giving them credit for. I hope not_. He stared down at his page, frowning at Fazbear’s neat, curling script beneath his own darker, more mechanical writing. It was proof that at least one of them was observant- one of them understanding.  
  
 _If they are, then our lives will become just that much harder._

* * *

 _My New Lab Partner!_  
  
 _Name_ : Freddy Fazbear  
 _Nickname(s)_ : N/A  
 _DOB_ : 8/26/98  
 _Places You’ve Lived_ : Durmont  
 _Future Plans_ : Music Academy in California  
 _Interests/Hobbies_ : Music, reading, writing  
 _Favourite Colour_ : Blue  
 _Favourite Band/Musician_ : George Beckham  
 _Phone #_  
     _Cell_ : 346-9843  
   _Landline_ : -


	4. Suspicions, Freddy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for the long wait, y'all!

“Thank you for your cooperation, class. Remember, these review packets need to be done by class Wednesday. You can use the next five minutes to talk amongst yourselves but I ask you don’t leave your desks, please.”

Freddy watched as Goldie immediately turned around to face him. “Think we can get these done by tonight?” the golden bear questioned. Freddy picked his packet up and began flipping through it, eyes scanning over the review questions and the readings.

“You tell me,” he chuckled, scanning through the questions.  _ Seems easy enough, really _ . “It’s not like I’ll be putting it off like a certain rabbit we know and love.” Freddy waited for Bonnie to butt in, but when the rabbit did not force his way into the conversation, he looked up as Goldie was turning back around.

Bonnie was staring intently at Rodriguez, who seemed to be doing his damnedest to ignore him. It was almost creepy, but…

“What’re you thinking, Blu?” The golden rabbit was asking as Freddy tuned in, glancing over towards them. “...Blu?”

“He does know he looks like a creep, right?” Goldie questioned as he turned back around, but Freddy didn’t answer. Instead, he concentrated on the rabbits ahead of him, a frown in place. “Freddy?” Goldie sounded annoyed.

“I’m trying to figure something out,” he informed Goldie, listening to the worried _ careful, you’re pulling a Mangle.  _ A glance towards the bear sitting next to him showed that he was also listening to the conversation. Maybe he was even part of it; Rodriguez’s gaze kept slipping over Salvage’s shoulder towards him, after all.

“Me, pull a Mangle? Aw, c’mon, I’m not  _ that _ cool, you know~” Rodriguez said cheerily, but something about it just didn’t sound right to Freddy.

He noticed Fischbach’s small, amused smile as Salvage said, “My mistake. Mangle  _ does _ always beat you in the studio, anyway.”

_ Studio? _ Freddy silently questioned, watching the rabbits ahead of him as the Spaniard gave a mock gasp. “I beg to differ! Mangle  _ barely _ stays on tempo!”  _ So a  _ music  _ studio. Interesting. _ Next to him, Fischbach seemed to have fallen into deep thought, paying the conversation in front of him only part of his attention.  _ Maybe he isn’t part of it after all. _

“Mangle  _ marks _ the tempo, Blu,” Salvage pointed out with a giggle, his undamaged ear drooping down to block his face from the Fazbear brothers’ view. “They can’t be  _ off _ tempo when they  _ make _ the tempo.”

“I disagree,” Fischbach finally added to the conversation, prompting the golden rabbit in front of him to twist around so his back faced Goldie, turning his head to look at his friend.

“Oh shush, Mr. Vocals,” Salvage seemed to be teasing his friend.  _ Mr. Vocals. Ironic. _ “If I remember right,  _ you _ were the one off tempo this morning.”

“Nope,” Fischbach instantly started, sending a small smirk towards his friend. “ _ You. _ ”

“Me?” Salvage sounded scandalized and Freddy watched as the golden rabbit’s entire air suddenly changed; he sat up straighter, lifting his head in the air. Although Freddy couldn’t see his face, he had a feeling that a haughty expression had slipped into place.

Freddy had a feeling that the upper class was being mocked right now, but he couldn’t even be bothered to feel offended as he noticed Fischbach’s expression.

His neutral expression had completely fled as he looked at his friend with a mixture of incredulity and amusement, bright blue eyes wide and teeth just barely showing through slightly parted, smiling lips. It was…  _ strange _ to see such a new, different expression on the bear’s face. 

Strange but not really out of place; somehow it looked completely natural.

“I’ll have you know, good sirs,” the golden rabbit continued in an exaggeratedly bad English accent, “I am  _ not _ at fault here.  _ Obviously _ the song was too slow to begin with.”

There was a beat of silence before Fischbach snorted and Rodriguez broke down into semi-hysterical giggles. As Fischbach lifted a hand to his forehead, presumably to hide his expression or show his exasperation, Rodriguez voiced, “Oh my gods, Spring,  _ really? _ ”   
  
Salvage relaxed, apparently satisfied with the reaction he received. “I  _ am _ really sorry about that, by the way,” Salvage told them softly, and Freddy glanced towards Fischbach as the younger bear let his hand fall back down to his desk. His expression was perfectly neutral but for a certain  _ spark  _ in his eye, one that hadn’t really been present earlier that class period. “I was out late and, you know... Last night wasn’t very… you know…”

Whatever that was supposed to mean, Rodriguez and Fischbach both seemed to understand perfectly well as they both nodded and Rodriguez said, “We know.” The bell rang and Freddy watched as Rodriguez and Goldie both practically leapt out of their seats. He wasn’t  _ quite _ sure which one of them made it out first, but both were beat by Foxy who nearly toppled right into Goldie. 

Another glance towards Fischbach revealed he was frowning towards Rodriguez, who said, “And then you get up at unholy o’clock.”

Freddy stood up as Fischbach said, “Hypocrite,” and looked at his golden-furred brother. Goldie was already walking towards the door.

“I’ll have you know that I am a  _ proud _ hypocrite, thank you very much.”

Bonnie’s brow raised and he looked towards Freddy. All Freddy could do was shrug as he went to follow his brother. 

Fischbach’s friends were quickly drowned out by the sound of chatter and footsteps in the hallway. “Thank god it’s only one class,” Goldie snorted. Freddy chose not to point out that they were also in their gym class. It seemed pointless as he knew what Goldie meant.  _ Thank god we don’t have to talk to them anywhere else. _

However… the image of that bruised wrist resurfaced in his mind and he frowned to himself, wondering just what could have caused it… if not a hand. And if it  _ was _ a hand, just why would someone have grabbed the other bear’s wrist hard enough to leave a bruise?

“That was  _ really  _ weird,” Goldie commented as they sat down with their high-rung “friends.” Freddy was only paying half attention to any of them as he pulled his lunch out.  _ He was really quiet but he seemed so concerned for his friends, even though  _ he  _ was the one in pain. _

“Weird?” Chica questioned.  _ And he struggles to speak. Is it a form of mutism I don’t know about or something else? _

“You didn’t even talk to your partner,” Foxy accused Chica, grabbing Freddy’s attention. “It was  _ really _ weird. Somethin’s off about Blanc. He, she, it, whatever is  _ really _ weird.”

_ Somethin’s off about all of them, _ Freddy thought, glancing towards the ceiling.  _ I wonder why I’m just noticing this, though.  _ “Maybe there’s a reason,” he mused aloud, looking down at his fork. From in front of him, he saw Bonnie turn to him, brow raised.

“What do you mean?” he questioned, a strange edge to his voice that, frankly speaking, Freddy simply wasn’t used to. His frown was thoughtful and suspicious, an expression that wasn’t exactly common for the laidback rabbit to be wearing.  _ Bonnie was watching Rodriguez like a hawk earlier. He must have noticed somethin’ was off, too. I should probably ask him about it. _

Goldie, Chica, and Foxy all looked more than a bit annoyed, however; here was  _ definitely _ not the place to talk about it with the rabbit.

“It’s nothing,” he decided to say instead, letting his eyes scan around the cafeteria. In the remaining seats of their table were other “popular” students that… Freddy could honestly say he didn’t like all that much. Most of them were shallow, rude and full of themselves, at least on the surface. Sure, not  _ all _ of them were, but the majority were faker than Foxy’s right hand. He wouldn’t be around them if it weren’t for his  _ real _ friends.

At the table next to them were more somewhat-popular students- students who had the looks but not the money, or had money and not the looks. At least, that was the way Freddy and pretty much everyone else viewed it. They were nicer than the people on Freddy’s “rung,” a little more “real.”

His back was to the rest of the cafeteria, but he knew the further back into the room you got, the less and less popular the students became, right up until you got to the very back corner table where only six students ever sat; Fischbach, his friends, and Marion Marshal sitting at the other end, completely alone.

However, at that moment his eyes landed on the doorway, where five colourful Animals were walking through. They were standing close together, talking and pointedly ignoring anyone they passed and avoiding any sort of physical contact with them. They seemed absorbed with each other, not at all noticing the people around them, but the way they moved to walk around people standing in their way without tearing their eyes away from each other told Freddy that they noticed much more than they were letting on. 

As Freddy watched them, Fischbach’s gaze broke away from his friends to scan the cafeteria; for just a split second, Freddy was caught by those wandering, observant blue eyes. Neither bear gave any reaction.

They had made eye contact, if only for a second. Freddy knew they had and he knew Fischbach knew they had. However, instead of dwelling on the split-second of awkward eye contact that Fischbach obviously wasn’t about to acknowledge, he turned back to his friends in time to hear Bonnie say, “They’re complaining about getting partnered with us.” Freddy raised a brow, though Bonnie wasn’t even looking at him. “As if they have any right to complain, we’re the ones stuck with a bunch of weirdoes.”

_ Don’t be so unfair, Bonnie. We haven’t exactly given them any reasons to like us _ , Freddy sighed silently to himself as Foxy groused, “Here here.”

Bonnie finally picked up his own sandwich, but as he did he glanced over towards Freddy. “But you know, Freddy,” he started, confirming to the bear that there was something he wanted to say to him specifically, “I agree. I think there’s a reason for it.”

They all fell into a strange, unfamiliar silence; three parts irritated, two parts thoughtful. Freddy silently ate his meal, thinking about Bonnie’s words as the jock next to him began talking about some cheerleader who kissed a band member. The bear paid none of them any mind, instead silently watching Bonnie as if the answers to the universe were written on the rabbit’s face. In a way he supposed they were; the rabbit was just staring at his sandwich, brow furrowed and lips twisted into a small, frustrated scowl.

_ Whatever you noticed must have been bad. What happened, Bonnie? What did you see? _

* * *

Freddy frowned at the art teacher in front of them, lightly tapping his fingers against the table. He wasn’t paying much attention to the man’s words, his thoughts on the conversation just twenty minutes earlier about their new science partners. 

It wasn’t a large class and yet again they were with Fischbach and friends.

However, they were on the complete opposite ends of the room; Freddy and his friends chose the front row while Fischbach and  _ his  _ friends were at the very back table. Between them were a few familiar faces, such as Marshal, popular footballer Shawn Larks- who was, ironically, a lark- and the head of the prom and yearbook committee, Ashley Creol. 

The bear decided to pay them no mind, though. He… wasn’t really fond of either of the latter, and he certainly didn’t know the former. His thoughts were solely on those chilling words that made him  _ really  _ consider that bruise around the other bear’s wrist.

_ “I’m not waiting for someone to fucking  _ die  _ before I’m willing to do something, weirdoes or not.” _

“Now that introductions have been made,” Mr. Smith went on cheerily, oblivious to the tense air at the front table, as he walked back over to his desk, “let’s pass out the syllabus.”

_ Syllabus for an art class? _ He sighed softly as he accepted the packet being offered to him, looking down at it with a frown. Still… those words wouldn’t leave him even as he tried to read through the syllabus.

_ “I’m not waiting for someone to fucking  _ die  _ before I’m willing to do something…” _

Bonnie knew something that Freddy didn’t, he was  _ sure  _ now. Those words chilled him to the bone; what was possibly going on that made Bonnie think someone was likely to die? It didn’t bode well; Bonnie had always been so laid back, always just going with the flow. He wasn’t the kind of person who would step up and just  _ say _ something like that.

“How to hold a pencil correctly? Is he freakin’ serious?” Freddy heard Foxy whisper. Grasping at the distraction, Freddy raised a brow and looked at the first order of business on the syllabus.

Sure enough, “How to hold a pencil correctly” was written in bold with absolutely no explanation next to it. Freddy scanned over the first page, noting average things- “Line Quality,” “Charcoal,” “Negative Space,” “Perspective,” and “Colour” among those- as well as very strange things, such as “How NOT to do an ellipse” and “You guys will get so sick of this pear and hate me forever, just be glad it isn’t popcorn.”

_ What does that even mean? _

From the back of the room, he heard a snort and a whispering voice. He couldn’t make out the whisper over other people’s little comments about the strange syllabus.

“Now, since this is high school and not college,” Mr. Smith started once everyone had a syllabus in hand, “most of the materials will be provided for you. Be grateful, most of the money to buy this stuff comes out of my own pocket. The only things you will need to buy for yourself are sketchbooks, a pencil set that ranges from 7B to 7H, black  _ and _ white charcoal pencils, and a few erasers. And a ruler is advised but not required, we’ll go over that at some other point.”

Mr. Smith paused and let his gaze wander to the back of the room, a brow raising as he smirked in amusement. “I know a few of you have taken this class  _ every single year  _ and already know most of this, but that just means I expect  _ great _ things out of you from the get-go.”

A small “eep” escaped the back of the room, resulting in several giggles and laughs among the class. Freddy, meanwhile, was trying to figure out how anyone could manage to get the  _ same  _ class four years in a row; even he and his own friends had to choose different music classes.  _ Certainly they don’t fail every single year… _

“Alright then!” Mr. Smith clapped his hands together and smiled widely at them all. That image, paired with the bright red hair and the strange tattoo on his left cheek, slightly unnerved Freddy. He wasn’t quite sure why. “I know  _ most _ of you won’t have the needed materials yet, but for now it’s fine, you only need one pencil for this and I can supply all of you with at least one pencil. Everybody, get up and choose an easel in the back there, you need to practice on paper. Paper is limited right now- by the way, if you want your own newsprint and drawing paper, they have some at the local Michael’s- so take care to not waste it all.”

Freddy sighed and stood up along with the rest of the class, turning around to head towards the empty space in back. He was only slightly surprised to see a blue rabbit bounding towards the back corner where a few easels had been set up prior to class; he could only assume that they had arrived early and set them up.

Something in the way the rabbit moved caught Freddy’s attention for the first time, however. He seemed to be favouring his left leg, almost as though attempting to walk correctly would pain him. It was almost like a limp, but… not  _ quite… _

The bear glanced at his purple friend as they made their way to the back, selecting easels as they passed the collection of heavy wooden frames. Either Bonnie hadn’t noticed or wasn’t paying any attention to the others; he seemed focused on the task at hand.

Which, Freddy decided with a wince as his easel crushed his foot, he should be too. “Ow,” he muttered, glaring at Goldie as his brother began snickering. “Oh shut up.”

“Careful, Freddy, you might trip and break your pretty little face,” Goldie teased. Freddy was so tempted to push him down and say,  _ Looks like you were talking about yourself! _ But… that would be immature. And dangerous among so many wooden easels.

Instead, he rolled his eyes and set his easel up, accepting the board and paper from his teacher. He quickly set it up, smirking as Foxy and Chica both looked completely lost on what to do. Foxy couldn’t even get his easel to stand up right.  _ Knob in the back, Foxy. Knob in the back. _

“Everyone set up?” Mr. Smith asked before actually  _ looking _ . His eyes landed on Foxy and Chica and he let out a soft snort before making his way over to them. 

Freddy and Goldie both exchanged a grin at their friends’ expense. When he glanced at Bonnie, though, Bonnie wasn’t paying them any attention. His gaze was on Rodriguez again.

_ “They’ll be too drunk to even remember the next morning,” _ rang through his mind. It had been said by one of Fischbach’s friends. Freddy didn’t know who it was about or who said it, but it still didn’t sound good.  _ I should ask Bonnie about it later. I bet he knows what they were talking about. _ He tried to focus on his teacher instead.

_ A bruise around the wrist, slightly splayed like fingers but blotchy and circular on top… _ The image flashed before his eyes and he turned his gaze back to his easel, frowning at the blank grey page. He couldn’t concentrate. It hadn’t even been a full day and yet he felt so suspicious, so…  _ worried. _ His only consolation was that he wasn’t alone.

_ “You don’t need to be friends to know something’s going on here. I’m not waiting for someone to fucking die before I’m willing to do something…” _

* * *

The drive to Bonnie’s house was tense at best, hostile at worst thanks to Foxy’s occasional huffs and determined staring out the window. They were all silent, Bonnie’s cryptic words hanging between them all. Freddy could tell everyone was wondering just what the hell Bonnie was insinuating just by the tight expressions they all wore. 

_ To suggest someone’s in danger of dying and then not even explain yourself…  _ It was frustrating. However, Freddy was handling it  _ much _ better than Goldie was. He took to staring intently at Bonnie halfway through the trip to the rabbit’s house, and he continued to stare at him as they went up the porch steps, into the house, and up the staircase towards the bedrooms.

When they settled down in Bonnie’s bedroom to work on their science packets, Freddy couldn’t even concentrate. He could swear up and down that he had read the second question four or five times already and he still didn’t know what it was asking.  _ One more time, concentrate, _ he demanded of himself, frowning at the packet.

“Bonnie, what the fuck did you mean earlier?”

It was so sudden and it completely started Freddy. He looked up, brows raised in surprise. Chica was the last person he expected to ask that.

_ Well… barring Foxy. _

He looked at Bonnie as Bonnie frowned at the chicken sitting at his desk. “What do you mean what the fuck did I mean?” he asked, frown deepening. “I think I was very clear.”

Before Chica could respond, Freddy cut in with, “Yes, you were very clear in the fact you think one of them is likely to die.” Bonnie’s red gaze was trained on him now, obviously waiting for Freddy’s point. “What we don’t understand is how you came to that conclusion.”

As Bonnie watched him, a strange understanding passed between them.  _ Two people who know something isn’t all right here. _ Both of them knew more than either was saying.

“And after only one conversation,” Foxy snorted, sitting up from his spot on the floor. Freddy glanced at him, feeling a hint of irritation.. “C’mon, Bonnie, you’re just reading too much into their words.” Freddy saw Bonnie scowl, obviously not happy at all with that declaration. “We don’t even  _ know _ them,” Foxy continued, his voice growing a little harsher as Bonnie’s scowl deepened further. “We’ve only spoken to them once and you’ve only overheard their conversations, what, a couple times? You’re hearing what you  _ want  _ to hear.”

_ A fight is bound to break out, _ Freddy thought worriedly.

Goldie didn’t help the problem at all as he said to Bonnie, “He’s got a point.” Freddy closed his eyes. “You have a suspicion about somethin’, so your mind’s twisting things to match it. It’s pretty common, actually.” 

Freddy shifted and opened his eyes, frowning. “I don’t know,” he started, glancing towards his brother, “Somethin’ does seem…  _ off _ .” Foxy opened his mouth and Freddy shot him a small glare. “And I’m not just talkin’ about how strange they are.” Promptly, his mouth snapped shut and he scowled. “I think Bonnie’s right, somethin’s going on. And you’re right, too, Foxy; we  _ don’t _ know them,” he conceded, glancing back up at Bonnie.

He hesitated for a moment to say his next words, choosing them carefully. “We see only what they let us see.” But… that wasn’t completely true, he realized as that bruise flashed through his mind again. He corrected, “Well…  _ Supposedly _ we only see what they want us to see.”

“Supposedly?” Chica parroted, raising a brow as Bonnie bit his lip. “What do you mean supposedly?”

_ That isn’t obvious? _ He didn’t really know how to answer that, so he shrugged and simply said, “When you’re not used to people watching you or paying you any attention, you’re bound to screw up.” Because that was what it was; a screw-up. Fischbach hadn’t meant for him to see the bruise- probably didn’t even  _ know _ he’d seen it. He hadn’t even meant for Freddy to ever find out about his speech problem. 

He looked towards Bonnie, wanting to get back to the subject at hand. “Bonnie? Context, please?” It was simple but effective as the purple rabbit’s scowl slipped away and his brow scrunched up in thought, as though trying to figure out how to word what he wanted to say.

“Well,” he started slowly, seeming to be choosing his words carefully. Freddy waited patiently for him to continue. “When we were doing that stupid questionnaire thing, Rodriguez… had a freak-out, I guess? He just suddenly… froze up,” Bonnie explained, sounding unsure of himself. “Like, he wasn’t even  _ breathing. _ ” That didn’t sound good. To Freddy it sounded like some sort of…  _ trauma  _ thing. He was reluctant to think PTSD- didn’t only war veterans get that? “And when I tried to say something, he got really, uh…”

He trailed off, unsure of how to say whatever he needed to say. However, Chica uttered an, “Oh,” catching their attention and taking it from Bonnie. They all looked over at her; she was frowning at Bonnie. “That’s what that was about, huh? He sounded really pissed, Bonnie.”

“You heard that, huh?” Bonnie sighed and Freddy frowned, watching as the chicken nodded. Bonnie continued with, “I don’t know what set him off, really. He wasn’t just angry, he was  _ scared _ . Terrified, even. I don’t even know what I did to scare him but he didn’t seem all there.”

_ Scared of you? I can’t say I’m surprised, you do look like you could easily snap the guy like a toothpick… _

“So you did something to scare him,” Foxy scoffed as he leaned back against the wall, watching Bonnie unimpressed. “That doesn’t mean anything, Bonnie.”

Freddy knew something was about to happen the moment Bonnie frowned and looked directly at Foxy, his eyes like steel. “A bloody bandage does, though.” 

The silence was heavy. Beside Freddy, Goldie began fidgeting uncomfortably. They all waited for Bonnie to elaborate, which he did when no one spoke up. “When we went into the art room his shirt rode up when Fishbach pulled him to his feet,” he explained. Freddy frowned; he didn’t remember that, but then again he hadn’t been watching Fischbach and them very closely. “You guys were talking about our marathon and I was watching them, ‘cause they had said some really weird things. He had a bandage wrapped around his abdomen and there was blood on it- and I wasn’t just  _ seeing _ things, ma’s a doctor, I know a bandage when I see one.”

Freddy and Goldie shared a worried look. He could see exactly what Goldie was thinking;  _ I don’t want to get involved in this. _

They were already involved, though. The moment they began talking about it they got involved. If they hadn’t brought it up, maybe they could have ignored it- pretended they saw nothing, live and let live.

For Bonnie to have brought it up, and in such a worrying way, meant that it must have been pretty bad.

“So he probably fell,” Foxy excused, though the uneasy edge in his voice told Freddy he wasn’t so sure about that. “It doesn’t mean anything.”

“Fischbach’s practically mute,” Freddy suddenly said, surprising himself. He hadn’t actually been planning on telling them that- and this was probably the worst, most unrelated moment to do so.

“Huh?” Goldie sounded confused and Freddy glanced over at the golden bear as he turned to face him. “No he’s not, I heard him talking.”

Freddy sighed and rolled his eyes.  _ Leave it to Gold to miss a keyword. _ “Practically. I didn’t say he  _ is _ ,” he informed his brother. “I thought he was being rude at first but he was legitimately struggling to say anything.” He paused, glancing around at the frowning faces around him. “He looked really ashamed about it, too. I basically had to watch him the entire time… which is kind of awkward but yeah...” he added, as it  _ was _ true. Staring at someone you don’t even know was  _ very _ awkward.

He wasn’t sure if he should mention the bruise. Was it really relevant? He almost decided not to, but then Chica asked, “And that has anything to do with a bloody bandage because…?” He looked at her, noticing a furrowed brow and sharp frown.

“He had a bruise around his wrist, too,” he decided to answer, lifting his left hand for emphasis. “He rubbed his wrist and ended up pulling the fur back and I noticed it.” He hesitated; should he mention his suspicion?  _ Should give it the benefit of the doubt... _ “I didn’t really get a good look, considering I was only glancing, but it… looked a  _ lot  _ like a hand.” He quickly tacked on, “From what I saw, anyway.” He didn’t want to be quoted if it turned out he was wrong.

They all looked around at each other, frowning and looking very unsure about it all. Finally, Chica said, “We shouldn’t jump to conclusions.” She turned to look directly at Bonnie, her magenta eyes stern. “We don’t know what’s going on. For all we know they could have been roughhousing or gotten themselves into an accident.” It was true; assuming that someone  _ else _ did it was a little… short-sighted.

_ “They’ll be too drunk to even remember the next morning.” _ Those words suddenly echoed in his mind and Freddy frowned, lightly tapping his fingers.  _ No, we  _ don’t  _ know what’s going on, but I don’t think it’s that simple, Chica. _

“Besides,” she started, glancing at the ceiling, “Kain didn’t look like she had  _ any _ sort of trouble going on.”

_ You didn’t even speak to her, you didn’t have a chance to notice anything. _

“I didn’t notice anything about Salvage either,” Goldie added, though there was an edge to his voice that told Freddy he was rethinking it- wondering a few things. “He was just really nervous and wary.”

Freddy frowned and glanced over at Foxy, who was scowling at them all. Clearly he had picked up on Goldie’s strange tone as well, but there was something else there. A strange gleam in his amber eyes.  _ He knows something too. _

However, when the fox spoke, he just said, “Blanc kept zoning out but that doesn’t mean anything.” He looked up at Bonnie again. “They’re all weirdoes and they’re bonded by their mutual weirdness, but that doesn’t  _ mean _ anything, Bonnie.”

Bonnie’s ears twitched and his eyes narrowed slightly at the fox.  _ Oh no. _ “I’m just saying,” he started with a sigh, “that I  _ really _ think someone needs to keep an eye on those five.” He was struggling to stay calm. “Something is  _ wrong _ here and if it has  _ anything _ to do with what I think it might-”

“We have no right to suspect  _ anything _ !” Foxy suddenly snarled, sitting up and glaring angrily at Bonnie. Looking at the angry fox, Freddy suddenly realized that there was more than aggravation in his voice and eyes; there was defensiveness.  _ Of course Foxy wouldn’t want to think of someone else going through what he did… _ “There was a bruise, a bandage, and a freak-out, whatever! It doesn’t mean anything, it could be any number of things! It’s  _ none of our business _ .”

They fell into a very tense silence. All of them knew Foxy was wrong-  _ Foxy _ knew he was wrong, Freddy could tell just by how worked up about it he was- but there  _ was _ a speck of truth in his words.

They  _ didn’t _ know what was going on and they  _ didn’t _ have a right to suspect anything… but…  _ If no one on the outside has a right to suspect something…  _

“I think,” Chica finally broke the silence, picking her pen up again, “that both of you are right.”

_ I agree and disagree at the same time. I’m so confused now… _

“How can both of them be right? They’re saying the exact  _ opposite _ of each other,” Goldie pointed out, perplexion clear in his voice. Freddy simply waited silently for an explanation. 

“They’re both right in a way,” Chica explained with a slight roll of her eyes. She pointed her pen towards Bonnie, causing them all to glance at the rabbit on his bed. “Bonnie’s right, somethin’ fishy’s goin’ on, and if it puts any of them in danger then just standing by and watching it happen is just as bad as dealin’ the blow ourselves.” 

It was true; wasn’t that what they always said at those anti-bullying rallies?  _ If you’re just standing there, watching and doing nothing- even if you disapprove or are completely disgusted- you’re still part of the problem. _

The chicken now shifted her pen over towards Foxy, redirecting their attention to the fox on the floor. “But Foxy’s also right that we can’t just assume we know what’s going on and get involved. If we do, we risk messing a  _ lot _ of things up, for ourselves and Fischbach and his friends.” It was true; if they went in, guns blazing so to say, they would cause their classmates a  _ lot _ of trouble and, most likely, embarrassment. 

Chica dropped her pen down onto Bonnie’s desk, watching them all sternly. “We  _ don’t _ know them, we’re outsiders looking in. We  _ don’t _ know what’s going on, we  _ don’t know  _ so we shouldn’t get involved _. _ The most we should do at this point is watch for signs.”

_ Signs. _ But of what?  _ What are we even suspecting here? Do we suspect anything? Well, obviously we do if we’re gonna watch for signs or whatever… _

Foxy, however, did not seem to like this agreement. “Watch for signs?” he repeated incredulously. “Haven’t we already established that when you get an idea your mind twists things to match it?”

Chica looked at the fox, frowning. “Then don’t call ambiguous actions or conversations proof or signs,” she sighed impatiently, shaking her head towards their friend. Then she added slightly softer, “Foxy, you should know this better than any of us.”

It was a bomb, the elephant in the room, and Chica just set it off. All of them sat, startled at the unexpected words. Foxy practically froze, staring at Chica with a frown. Several seconds of shocked silence passed before Foxy finally bit out, “Fine.”

It was an agreement. A begrudging agreement, but an agreement nonetheless. He wasn’t happy, but he knew Chica was right. They all knew she was right.

“So wait,” Goldie spoke up, his voice thick with confusion. He seemed to be trying to figure out if he missed something. “Did we just agree to keep an eye on our  _ least favourite people in the entire school? _ ”

“Pretty much,” Freddy nodded, glancing at his brother. “Just because you don’t like them doesn’t mean they deserve whatever’s happening.”

“If anything at all,” Chica added warningly, causing Freddy to glance up at her. He just nodded again.

“If anything at all, yes.”

The silence lasted only a few short seconds before Goldie voiced, “Keep an eye on our science partners, huh?” Then he glanced around and asked, “What exactly are we watching for, anyway? Signs, but signs of what?”

There was another silence. Freddy glanced over at Foxy, who was staring intently at his hand.  _ I think I know what we’re watching for.  _ Yes, the answer was hanging in the air between all of them. It was Bonnie who finally voiced what they all were thinking.

“Anything suspicious, I guess,” he said, voice tight. “Things like… I dunno…” He hesitated for a moment. “Depression, abuse, gang activity- you know, that kind of stuff.”

It was the answer Freddy- no, the answer  _ all _ of them- expected.  _ Abuse _ was the word that  _ really _ stuck in Freddy’s mind, that hand-shaped bruise flashing through his mind.

It was dead silent, the agreement hanging heavily between them, and then, almost as one, everyone returned their eyes to their packets.  _ If something’s going on, the only thing we  _ can _ do is get help for them. We can’t do anything ourselves. _

However, Freddy  _ did _ wonder if there was something- anything- that they could do. They were all seniors in high school, all of them so close to leaving. Could they really derail their classmates’ lives with so little time left to go?  _ Especially if whatever is happening has been going on all along… but that doesn’t make it better.  _

_ That just means we’re blind. _

He didn’t voice these thoughts to the others, though. The silence was covering them like a blanket and Freddy knew the topic was closed. He glanced around, wanting the tense air to go away but unsure how to go about it.

Bonnie was the one who broke the silence, simply asking, “What’s the answer for number eight?”

Just like that, it all melted away. It brought no comfort to Freddy.

__

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would just like to put here that Blu does /not/ have PTSD and yes, I'm aware you don't need to be a war veteran to have it.


	5. Be careful of Watching Eyes, Alfred

“Thank you for your cooperation, class. Remember, these review packets need to be done by class Wednesday. You can use the next five minutes to talk amongst yourselves but I ask you don’t leave your desks, please.”

Alfred breathed out a quiet sigh, looking down at the packet with a slight frown. That had  _ not _ been fun, having to speak in front of the class. He had managed, speaking shortly, but that had only been because he had been mentally preparing himself… and even then he had stumbled and lost his voice.

How fun  _ that _ had been, Fazbear having to put in a word or two for him. But it was over now and he could pretend it hadn’t happened at all. Thankfully, the bear next to him was occupied with his brother and paying him no mind. For now.

“Blu,” Spring whispered to the rabbit in the front row, but it also got Alfred’s attention. He looked up from his desk, wondering what Spring was thinking. When Blu turned around, plastering on a fake grin, he understood. Spring was trying to distract the other rabbit.

“Yeah, Spring?” Blu questioned, his voice soft and strained. Alfred’s frown deepened and he crossed his arms over his desk, leaning forward slightly. He knew the conversation was open to him as well- it always was- but he simply couldn’t bring himself to speak up. Spring was better at these sort of things anyway.

“What’re you thinking, Blu?” Spring asked, concerned, and Blu just stared back at him silently for several seconds. Alfred felt worry twisting in his stomach and he shifted uneasily, pulling his leg up under him on the seat. Blu seemed out of it. “... Blu?”

“Huh?” Blu blinked, seeming to fall back down to earth as he looked at them again.

“Careful,” Spring started with a forced laugh that felt much too heavy on Alfred’s heart, “You’re pulling a Mangle.”

Blu grinned and leaned over Spring’s desk, as if to whisper conspiratorially to the golden rabbit. However, what he said was nothing of the sort. Instead, he said, “Me, pull a Mangle? Aw, c’mon, I’m not  _ that _ cool, you know~”

Alfred couldn’t resist a small smile at the tease. He was sure Mangle heard the comment, but with the separation they couldn’t exactly respond to it. That disheartened him just a little more than he already was.  _ I hope Mangle and Chii are alright... _

“My mistake,” Spring started, a teasing edge entering his voice. Alfred tilted his head slightly. “Mangle  _ does _ always beat you in the studio, anyway.”

That wasn’t true. Truth be told, Blu was the most dedicated one of them to music and he could outplay them all if he really wanted to- on any of  _ their own  _ instruments, to boot. It was probably because music was his only lifeline besides his friends, Alfred mused. That bunny would jump at the chance to learn  _ any  _ instrument… but the guitar, in particular, was his passion. He loved singing and dancing and even enjoyed the piano and fiddle, but guitar was where his heart truly laid and it showed.

Each of them were much the same, he thought as he watched Blu’s face morph into mock-offense. “I beg to differ! Mangle  _ barely _ stays on tempo!” Chii enjoyed keyboard, but her heart was really put into her cooking. And  _ damn _ could she cook  _ anything-  _ even non-vegetarian dishes, no problem at all. Her baking could probably put a professional to shame, even. And Mangle? Well, they loved music and dancing, too, but  _ acting  _ was where they really shined. If things had been different, they would probably be on top of the drama club.

“Mangle  _ marks _ the tempo, Blu,” Spring giggled, his left ear drooping down to hide his face from the golden bear watching him. Spring? Spring loved music, too, but it didn’t mean as much to him as it did to Blu. If Alfred was honest, as much as Spring loved to play guitar and sing, he looked so much more at peace with a paintbrush in hand, looking over some kind of still life or landscape. But  _ peace  _ didn’t mean  _ passion _ . Alfred wasn’t really sure what his  _ passion  _ was, and he had a feeling Spring didn’t know either. “They can’t be  _ off _ tempo when they  _ make _ the tempo.”

“I disagree,” Alfred offered as he watched his friends. What about himself? Well, he enjoyed singing. It seemed to be the only way he could ever  _ voice _ what he wanted to say- when the music was playing, the beat of the drum echoing the beating of his heart, and all of his problems forgotten for the moment. But his own true passion was the easiest way to express himself; through written word.

Fiction or poetry, he loved it. He loved reading it and he  _ really _ loved writing it, getting everything he felt out onto the page. Unlike the others, though, he was already somewhat succeeding in his own passion. Under a pseudonym in a monthly journal, yes… but it was something, and it kept him and his parents from getting evicted when they blew everything on drugs and alcohol.

“Oh shush, Mr. Vocals,” Spring snorted, turning around so he could see Alfred. “If I remember right,  _ you _ were the one off tempo this morning.”

That also wasn’t true, and Alfred suddenly realized where Spring was going with this. “Nope,” he countered with a smirk. “ _ You. _ ”

It was the response Spring was looking for, yes, but Spring’s own response to it was  _ not _ what Alfred was expecting.

“Me?” Spring questioned mock-incredulously, and then, suddenly, his entire countenance changed; he straightened and lifted his head up, his eyes half-lidded as he glanced aside at both of them. Alfred’s mask of indifference promptly slid away, eyes widening and lips turning up, just barely showing his teeth between slightly-parted lips. Across from him, Blu gave a wry grin. _Spring looks like his_ _mother!_ “I’ll have you know, good sirs, I am _not_ at fault here. _Obviously_ the song was too slow to begin with,” Spring continued in the most butchered fake-English accent he could muster, and Alfred’s eyes met Blu’s green eyes across Spring’s desk. 

It took all of two seconds before Blu dissolved into hysterical giggles and Alfred snorted, shaking his head and raising a hand to his forehead as if exasperated.  _ Oh my god, Spring. _

“Oh my gods, Spring,  _ really? _ ” Blu giggled the words Alfred had been thinking, leaning more on Spring’s desk as if to support himself.

This was apparently the reaction Spring had been hoping for, as his haughty air melted away as he relaxed and grinned at them. “I  _ am _ really sorry about that, by the way,” he started, and Alfred let his hand fall back to his desk, his neutral expression back in place. “I was out late and, you know... Last night wasn’t very… you know…” Spring’s voice trailed off. Alfred simply nodded in understanding.

_ Plushie had a bad night. _

“We know,” Blu confirmed. The bell rang and Alfred hardly had a chance to blink before the blue rabbit was out of his seat, standing between his desk and the wall.  _ That can’t be good for his leg. _ “And then you get up at unholy o’clock.”

“Hypocrite,” Alfred snorted before he could help himself.  _ Funny, I usually have the opposite problem. _ He slid out of his seat and watched Blu, small smile in place, as the rabbit put his hands on his hips and said, “I’ll have you know that I am a  _ proud _ hypocrite, thank you very much.” Alfred snorted and watched as white arms looped around Blu’s shoulders.

Mangle was several inches taller than Blu, so it wasn’t like Alfred hadn’t noticed the fox walk up behind the blue rabbit. “This was the most horrible thing I have ever gone through,” the fox sighed, leaning on their shorter friend. Alfred noted they were careful enough to not put all of their weight on him, as they would have to Spring or Alfred. He knew it was more because of Blu’s injuries than his lesser height, though. “Please tell me we have something to look forward to!”

“Well,” Spring started, Alfred’s gaze trailing over to him again, “it’s lunch time and then we have art with Mr. Smith.”

Alfred smiled slightly. Mr. Smith was… strange, but nice. He was best friends with the music director and was actually the one who convinced them to speak with him about private classes. He was one of the very few adults in their life that Alfred trusted. The only other two? The music director Mr. Fitzgerald and Spring’s sister, Mimi.

But like hell did  _ any _ of them know about what was going on. Not even Mimi. No way in  _ hell _ . 

However… sometimes, when one of them was hurt, he saw the way they looked at all of them. He saw their expressions when they caught sight of a bruise, just barely visible under the fur. He remembered the way they frowned when Blu “fell and broke his wrist” and had to wear a brace. And he could  _ clearly _ remember getting called to the counsellor’s office and probed about his home life.

When the child protective services arrived, the apartment was spotless and his parents perfectly presentable. There wasn’t a single bottle of alcohol sitting outside of his father’s locked case. He still wasn’t sure which one of those adults reported him and he couldn’t help but wonder if any of the others had gone through something similar. None of them ever mentioned anything, though, so he never asked.

All of these thoughts passed quickly through his mind, and when Chii cheered, he turned his attention to her. “Come on, let’s go claim our table before some freshmen get it. I made lunch for all of us.” 

_ Ah, right, I almost forgot. _

Chii’s deep blue eyes suddenly flicked around, searching the room. It occurred to Alfred that they were the last ones in there; even Dr. Schmidt had vacated the premises. Only people walking by outside were nearby, but their chatter and footsteps would cover whispers easily. 

“Are you guys alright?”

It was such a simple question; at face value, it was simply that. However, her eyes asked so much more.  _ Did you freak out? Panic? Did they notice anything? Did they do or say anything? Do we need to do something? _

Alfred had absolutely no way of answering  _ that _ question, not verbally anyway. However, he had plenty of time to think of  _ something _ to say as Blu began with, “I think I may have really fucked up already.”

_ That doesn’t sound good at all _ , Alfred thought with a frown, sharing a look with the others. “Why?” he asked simply, looking back at Blue. He knew his real meaning would bleed through his words.

_ What happened? Are you all right? Do we need to run damage control? Did Henderson do something to you? _

Blu’s expression tightened and he looked conflicted, as if he wasn’t sure  _ how _ to respond to the question. Chii stepped in, though, saying, “You looked like you almost had an episode.” All of them turned their attention to her, and she expanded with, “I heard you kinda… at the, uh, future plans question. I looked over at you and you looked pretty bad, Blu.”

_ An episode. _ That wasn’t good. If Blu had- or almost had- an episode when  _ Bonnie Henderson _ was watching him, then there was a very high chance that he’d have noticed  _ something  _ was wrong.  _ Hopefully his bias against us will just lead him to believe we’re even stranger than he first thought. _

But then he remembered the way Henderson and the Fazbear brothers were watching them… listening to them…  _ studying _ them.

_ Yeah. Henderson definitely noticed something. _ He didn’t voice this, though; his voice caught in his chest when he tried and he quickly gave up. He decided that if it looked like Henderson was becoming a problem  _ then  _ he’d bring it up to them. Until then, his silence wouldn’t hurt anything.

He hoped.

He suddenly realized Blu had been speaking and blinked; he missed every word he said.  _ Did I zone out? Geez, I just pulled a Mangle… except Mangle’s paying attention- focus, Fischbach! _

“...thing could have triggered it,” the blue rabbit was saying. “So, uh, yeah… What about you guys? Everything okay?”

He was diverting the subject. That was all right, though; they didn’t want anyone overhearing  _ this _ conversation. 

“Yeah. I didn’t have a panic attack so that’s something,” Spring answered, his gaze sliding over to Alfred. “Al?”

He hadn’t prepared anything to say. He’d been so caught up in his own thoughts that he completely forgot. So, instead, he shrugged and headed towards the door, the others following. After a few seconds of silence, he said, “I guess.”

He knew they would understand that meant  _ something _ happened, he just couldn’t voice it right now. Understanding, Mangle spoke up next.

“I zoned out a couple times, but I wouldn’t really count that as a fuck up,” they said as they entered the cafeteria and headed towards their usual table.

For just a second, Alfred’s bright blue eyes met ocean blue. His step didn’t falter, his expression didn’t slip, and he didn’t even show a sign of noticing, his gaze passing right over the Fazcrew without incident. However, he did register the fact that Freddy Fazbear was staring directly at them.  _ Maybe I fucked up, too. _ He followed his friends and slid into his seat on Chii’s left, in front of Mangle and next to the wall. 

“Nothing wrong with being a dreamer,” Chii declared, Alfred nodding absently in agreement. “I didn’t even speak to Sanchez so I’m perfectly fine.” 

_ I barely spoke to Fazbear, does that count? _ He thought wryly to himself, but he didn’t voice it.

Not that he even wanted to.

“So all in all, horrible day?” Blu questioned.

“Absolutely,” the others chorused as Alfred simply nodded. To be honest, though, interacting with Fazbear wasn’t the horrible part; standing up in front of the class to  _ speak _ had been. He only got through it by focusing his attention on Blu and Spring in front of him.

“Should’ve known the moment you lost your balance this morning that it would be,” Mangle added as they accepted the fruit salad Chii offered them.

“Yeah, sorry,” Blu said instinctively. Alfred accepted the offered container of fried rice and mixed vegetables, giving Chii a smile of thanks. She smiled back then reached back into her bag. He raised a brow at her.

“Hurry up and eat so there’s time for dessert, boys and Mangle~” Chii sang, pulling out five more containers. Alfred smiled slightly at the sight of the strawberry-topped cake and glanced over at Blu as he perked up.

Alfred, personally, wasn’t big on sweets, but his friends? They all  _ loved _ sugar.  _ Especially  _ Spring.

“Awesome!” Blu cheered, perhaps a little too loudly, but Alfred didn’t really mind. People tended to ignore them anyway. It was worth it to see that smile. “Thanks, Chii, you’re the best!”

“Aw,” Chii laughed with a dismissive wave, “my grandmother could have done so much better.” She began passing the cake slices out and Alfred gave her another smile in thanks, accepting it. He probably wouldn’t finish it, even if it was a small slice, and either save the rest for later or give it to Blu. It depended, really. “Sorry, Spring, I would’ve gotten you chocolate cake but we don’t have any right now.”

Alfred snorted softly and glanced across Chii to look at Spring. “That’s fine,” Spring laughed with a small smirk, his gaze trailing to the blue rabbit. “Chocolate might be  _ far  _ superior but this is good too~”

The brown bear laughed right along with Chii and Mangle, shaking his head slightly.  _ Chocoholic. _ Blu pointed his plastic fork at Spring in a mock-threatening way as he said, “Now wait just a moment there, goldy-bun, ain’t  _ nothin’ _ superior to strawberry!”

Alfred chuckled and exchanged a glance with Chii as she giggled, “I beg to differ. There  _ is _ something superior to strawberries.”

“Chocolate is not it, though,” Mangle put in with a grin towards Spring. “Not even close~!”

When Spring pointed dramatically towards the white and pink fox and cried, “Treason!” all of them immediately dissolved into borderline-hysteric laughter… Alfred included. He covered his mouth to try and muffle his own laughter, watching his friends with a warm feeling in his chest.

He loved seeing them look so free.

* * *

There was absolutely no way in  _ hell _ Alfred could say he approved of his friends’ actions as he watched, worried, Spring and Mangle spin Blu around on a swivel stool. The only reason he was not telling them to stop was because all three of them were laughing and no one else except the art teacher was in the room, and Mr. Smith didn’t seem bothered by their antics at all.

So he settled for standing nearby, watching Blu carefully for any signs that he was about to lose his grip and fly or fall off of the stool.

He shifted nervously and glanced back at Chii, who was sitting in one of the chairs at the fourth row of tables. The last row, where they always sat every year in this class. It made Alfred feel better to not have anyone sitting behind them. Having people sitting behind him made him feel vulnerable and nervous; the studio was large and open, though, so a large empty space filled with stools, easels, and drawing horses still laid behind them, as well as a second door to a hallway. Still, that empty space and that door was  _ much _ better than having  _ people _ behind him.

As he looked back towards the rabbits and fox, there was an “oh god dammit” from the doorway. Immediately, all three stopped laughing; Spring and Mangle turned towards the doorway and Blu lost his grip and balance. Reacting quickly, Alfred darted forward and caught Blu a moment before he could painfully hit the tiled floor. He frowned as he watched Blu laugh and look up at him, but he wasn’t frowning at the rabbit.

He didn’t look up towards the Fazcrew as they moved towards the first row of tables, furthest they could get from them. Instead, he concentrated on Blu, letting his eyes scan over him to determine if he’d been in time to keep the rabbit from getting hurt.

“Sorry, Al!” Blu laughed, giving him a grin. “Can you put me down now?” Alfred raised a brow playfully; the rabbit was hardly a foot from the ground. “Don’t drop me!” And that was exactly what Alfred did, chuckling silently as Blu let out a soft  _ oomph _ as he hit the floor. “You’re such a jerk, Alfred,” the rabbit laughed, staring up towards him.

Alfred smirked and carefully grabbed Blu’s arm, hauling him up to his feet. He did a quick scan of the rabbit and noticed his shirt had ridden up on one side; it looked like the hem had gotten caught on the bandage or his fur. Either way, the white bandage stood out glaringly against his blue fur. “Shirt,” he warned.

The rabbit’s confusion quickly changed to realization and he tugged his shirt down, flashing him a grin as he said, “Thanks.”

Alfred nodded slightly, though Blu had already headed towards the table to sit down on Chii’s right. He glanced around the room. The Fazcrew were all talking amongst themselves.  _ Good, no one saw, _ he thought in relief, following his friends to the table to sit on Chii’s right.

Of course he had gotten used to no one noticing their… slip-ups. No one really cared enough to pay them any attention, so most of the time when Blu’s shirt rode up to reveal an injury, or Alfred wore a sweater in the summer to cover his own, or Mangle didn’t have time to cover a bruise with makeup in the morning, or when Spring forgot his medicine and became extremely despondent, or Chii became jumpy and avoided physical contact… usually, when any of that happened, no one but themselves noticed. That was how they wanted it, though. If no one noticed them, then no one would bother them. It simply was.

However, Alfred felt his heart rate pick up suddenly. Because somebody  _ was _ paying them attention now. Because someone  _ was _ watching them, looking for any…  _ signs _ . As if he  _ suspected  _ something. He could remember, clearly, those red eyes watching Blu intensely, concentrating on him… 

“War by the water.” Alfred blinked; had his friends been speaking? They wouldn’t have even noticed him zoning out, since he was already so silent…

“Didn’t someone nearly fall in the lake last time we did that?” Blu questioned with a teasing grin towards Spring. Alfred watched as the rabbit between Blu and Mangle began blushing in embarrassment.

That had been a fun day, one of the best days over the summer that year. He remembered it quite well; he had to grab Spring by the back of his shirt to keep him from falling into the water, and then he had promptly shot him in the face with his own water gun before running off, the battle continuing. He smirked at the memory; good times, good times… 

“Well it’s got my vote~” Blu sang, Chii giggling an agreement. Alfred simply nodded.

Spring laughed and shook his head, looking both disbelieving and amused. “I can’t tell if you just want to see me fall in the lake this time or not.” Then he shrugged, smiling at them. “A day at the lake sounds fun. We could use a vacation.”

_ I don’t want you guys trapped home alone with your parents. _ That was what he actually meant.

Then, just as Alfred expected, the rabbit’s air changed. He lifted his hand and gestured him, Chii, Blu, and Mangle closer to him. Without hesitance, all of them scooted their chairs closer and leaned in. Alfred left a little space between himself and Chii, choosing instead to lean more on the table around her. He knew she wouldn’t have minded, but he also knew just how uncomfortable she was with prolonged physical contact and he didn’t want to make her uncomfortable.

When they were all as close as they could be, Spring continued speaking, his tone low. It would be impossible for anyone to hear them under the voices of the thirteen or so other students in the room.

“What’ll be the excuses this time, though?” Spring asked them quietly, his green eyes scanning over all of them.

“Research project?” Chii suggested, her voice just as quiet as Spring’s. Research projects actually weren’t an excuse they used a lot. They tried to avoid having too many “projects” or else some of the parents might get… suspicious. “Tell them we have a project that’ll take all of Saturday?”

“Why not Sunday too? Make it an overnight thing,” Spring offered, glancing around at all of them. “We could camp out in my back yard if it’s not raining.”  _ He doesn’t want us at home. Maybe he doesn’t want to be alone, either. Plushie is going to visit his grandparents this weekend, right? Then maybe we  _ should  _ stay. _

Alfred’s eyes snapped to Blu as he raised his hand with an, “Um.” When the others looked at Blu, he continued, “My folks have been trying to get me to  _ drop out _ of school, I highly doubt they’ll care about me having a research project.”

It was a valid point and Alfred frowned, knowing Blu was right. His parents  _ had _ been trying to get him to drop out, saying it was a waste of money to send him to school… despite, well, it being a public school and therefore not costing them a dime.  _ Fuckers. _

“Sneak,” he deadpanned, watching Blu turn to look at him. “Don’t need to know.” Of course there were a million problems with that suggestion, but it was literally the only way he could think of Blu getting out of the apartment all weekend.

Blu frowned. “And if they come in at midnight to find me gone?” he asked, raising a brow. Alfred’s frown deepened, thinking about the time that had happened.

It had not been a pleasant morning, finding out Spring had to take Blu to the hospital  _ again _ . He briefly wondered how Spring was able to keep the doctors and nurses off of their backs, but then he dismissed the thought; it was pretty obvious, after all.

Probably the same way his mother and step-father covered up last November.

“They’ll be too drunk to even remember the next morning,” Mangle pointed out with a snort, and Alfred frowned over at them. They had spoken too loudly, but they seemed to realize it as they dropped their voice down. “It might work for my parents, and even if it doesn’t it’s not like they even know where Spring’s house is.” They glanced over at their blue-furred friend, a frown tugging at their lips. “We can’t keep using the same old excuses, Blu, they’ll only work for so long.”

“Well, they only need to work for eight or nine more months,” Spring mentioned with a sigh, tugging his fingers through his tangled fur. “Then we’re out of this hellhole and off to freedom.”

_ Freedom _ , Alfred sighed silently, closing his eyes for a moment. It’d be nice to finally be free.  _ Like Sam and Reggie… speaking of which, my deadline is this Friday… I need to finish editing… _

Mangle’s voice brought the bear back to reality as they said, “I’m not sure if my parents have, uh,  _ plans  _ for us this weekend, but-” The fox never did finish their sentence as Blu suddenly looked sharply at them.

“Guys, shut up,” the rabbit hissed, startling all four of them into silence. Blu had  _ never _ told them to shut up- not seriously, anyway. Alfred watched Spring follow Blu’s gaze, and he glanced in that direction as well.

Henderson was watching them with a raised brow. Alfred scowled, though the rabbit was paying him no mind, and closed his eyes. He couldn’t hear what Spring and Blu were whispering to each other, but when Spring straightened up and said, “So, war by the water Saturday?” he knew he was diverting the conversation. Henderson didn’t need to be privy to Mangle’s parent situation, after all. “And then camping in the back yard if weather permits?”

“Throw in a picnic and a jam session and I agree,” Blu said, grinning at his friends, and Alfred chuckled and shook his head in amusement.

“Oh, Blu,” Mangle sighed overdramatically, reaching in front of Spring to set their hand on Blu’s shoulder, “Haven’t you realized by now we will  _ always _ jam?”

Alfred snorted as the bell rang and he turned his gaze to the front of the classroom, where he noted in satisfaction that the Fazcrew were all turned around.  _ Good. _

“Everyone quiet down now!” Alfred looked at the ginger-haired art teacher, whose arms were covered in tattoos. He was grinning as he surveyed the class. “Up front, all eyes please, so we can get this over and done with and get started on having fun. Alright then, everyone settled? Good. I’m Fritz Smith and this is…”

* * *

The day was warm as they sat outside in Spring’s back yard. The sun was hovering over the lake, an hour or so until it was meant to set, and the sound of two acoustic guitars filled the air around them with music. Alfred gazed out towards the lake, just barely visible over the tree barrier between the public park and Spring’s family’s property. 

It was a large property; it used to extend to the lake until the city decided they wanted to make the park, and though Spring’s parents had pitched a fit about it he had managed to convince them to just take the offer. 

_ So the back yard will be smaller on one side, big deal, it keeps the local government off of our backs and out of my life. _ That had been Spring’s rationalization to Alfred and the others, and within days of the decision trees were planted and a fence built to ensure some level of privacy for them and the little golden rabbit that lived there.

Speaking of...

Out in the yard, Plushie was playing by himself, too enraptured in whatever game his mind had conjured to pay the almost-adults any attention. Alfred observed as he spun and ran around, an action figure in one hand and a ballerina barbie in the other. He couldn’t hear the child from that distance but it looked like Barbie and G.I. Johnson or Kenny or whatever it was- Alfred honestly couldn’t recall- were having an epic air battle.

_ It’s nice that he can have a normal childhood _ , Alfred mused, tearing his gaze away from the rabbit child as he did. It was a heartwarming sight… but it was also saddening that this is what he himself would consider  _ normal _ .

Because Plushie’s childhood was anything  _ but  _ normal, and the scars and nightmares following him from his infanthood proved it.

It was a beautiful, sunny day, but they weren’t in the sun at that moment. He closed his eyes and used his foot to lightly swing himself, Mangle, and Chii on the porch swing they were sitting on. Across from them, the rabbits were playing their guitars on the second swing, though they weren’t swinging. Chii was singing and Mangle was lightly tapping their prosthetic against the wooden armrest of the swing, making a soft, fitting beat for the music.

Alfred didn’t join in the song, though. Instead, he listened to their song and enjoyed the peace, wishing that they could be out in the yard right alongside that little golden rabbit and enjoying what was left of their youth to the fullest. They were almost all grown up, after all; the time for games was coming to an end.

_ “And when the time comes for you and I to say goodbye, there’ll be no tears, for all these years have made you a part of me, and forever here you’ll be…” _


	6. Making Choices, Freddy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let's see who notices what I did in this chapter. It plays a HUGE role in Freddy and Alfred's story later.

_Freedom was something that Sam had never really known growing up in her small town and smaller house, so the feeling of the wind in her hair brought a wide smile to her face as she stood at the top of the hill, staring out over the landscape._

_“Look, Reggie! We can see for miles from here! There’s our house, and there’s Mrs. Miller’s. And the little church where Mr. and Mrs. Evans got married!”_

_It was true; all or these things were visible from where the little girl and her faithful canine perched, but beyond the town they could see so much more than they had even known existed. Beyond the reaches of suburban homes and wooden fences were fields and fields of flowers and young trees growing wild, and even further beyond this they could see the ocean, sprawling and sparkling on the horizon, calling-_

“Freddy?”

Letting out a breath, Freddy looked up from the little magazine, frowning over at his brother. He wasn’t annoyed at the interruption, however- the golden bear sounded contemplative and somewhat unhappy, and his expression mirrored his tone; his brow was drawn and he frowned as he stared at the ceiling, lazily spinning in his desk chair.

There were two small piles of thin navy-blue and gold books sitting on his desk. Yearbooks. He chose to hear his brother out instead of questioning the presence of the twelve years’ worth of books.

“Yes, Gold?” Freddy acknowledged, quietly closing the magazine and setting it down on his own desk. It wouldn’t be too hard to find the story again.

“Do you... _really_ think something’s going on?” Goldie asked hesitantly, pausing in his spinning to look at his brother.

“What d’ya mean?” Freddy questioned, raising a brow. He already knew the answer, of course. It had been on his mind ever since their conversation- their _agreement._ He had, successfully, lost himself in the latest chapter of a little story he had stumbled across a few weeks before, but of course it was that moment that his brother wanted to talk about _it._

“Y’know... Spr... Salvage’s group,” Goldie explained vaguely, his blue eyes glancing away. “I just- you said... and Bonnie said... and… y’know...” he trailed off, as if unsure of what he was even saying.

 _This is really bothering him,_ Freddy realized suddenly. He hadn’t thought his brother had really been affected by the conversation or the possibility- he hadn’t even considered that it may have been eating at his usually-carefree brother.

“Why?” he asked simply, knowing his brother would understand.

_Why do you care so much?_

Goldie frowned at him and huffed. “If something _is_ happening then... it’s... I mean, I want to say it isn’t our business,” he started, glancing towards the ceiling and away from Freddy, “but we have to actually talk to them and, y’know... for the entire school year... and... that kinda makes it important, doesn’t it?”

“Foxy’s gettin’ to ya,” Freddy sighed, turning in his own chair to properly face Goldie. He leaned forward, eyes on his brother, and the golden bear turned to look at him again. “Goldie,” he started seriously, “whether or not we have to associate with them, it _is_ important. If anyone is ever in a situation like... what those five _might_ be, then it’s important for anyone- whether or not they have anything to do with them- to keep an eye on things and help them if they need it.”

He hesitated, not sure if what he was about to say next would be well-received by his brother. “The truth is, Goldie,” he started carefully, watching him, “whether or not ya like them, just standin' by and lettin' anything _happen_ to them is... terrible.”

The frown on his brother’s face sharpened as his gaze lowered to the floor. “Isn’t that what we’ve _potentially_ been doing for twelve years now?” he questioned bitterly, not meeting Freddy’s gaze.

_He sounds like he knows something._

“The difference between now and then is that we had no reason to suspect anything back then,” Freddy sighed. “They-”

“We’ve been their classmates since _kindergarten_ _,_ Freddy,” Goldie cut him off, still not looking at him. “If something _is_ going on, we should have fucking noticed _years_ ago- not written it off as being _oddities.”_

“The things we’ve noticed,” Freddy tried, “are things we’d never notice from a distance. We-”

“I wouldn’t have even considered his anxiety.”

It was a flat declaration and it caused Freddy to pause, surprised. It didn’t sound like his brother- it was bitter and guilty. He frowned at Goldie. “What do you mean?”

“I noticed he was wary of me and he seemed anxious- I thought he was gonna have a panic attack or somethin’,” Goldie muttered, his gaze sharp and to the side. “I just wrote it off as him bein'... y’know, one of the weird kids. But I... kinda... when we got home I looked up stuff like... y’know, anxiety, and it... seems a lot more serious than just feelin’ _anxious_ about things... like... an actual _medical condition_ and stuff... that some people take _medicine_ for...”

His brother was struggling, Freddy realized. He was struggling because he hadn’t realized that the _rabbit_ had been struggling- that even so much as _talking_ to Goldie had actually made Spring Salvage a nervous wreck. For not realizing that he had indirectly hurt the rabbit- and not recognizing that it was a warning sign for something so much bigger.

Because Goldie Fazbear only saw in hindsight what Freddy and Bonnie realized immediately.

“Goldie,” he started, his voice gentle, “there was no way you could have known-”

“But you figured it out.”

“I figured Fischbach out,” Freddy corrected, shaking his head slightly. “There’s a difference.”

He knew Goldie was right, though- he had seen it in the way Fischbach and Salvage had interacted in that split moment, the way Fischbach’s hand brushed over Salvage’s and how it seemed to soothe the distraught rabbit, that something wasn’t right with Salvage. There was something that deeply concerned his friends.

Yes, Freddy had figured out the rabbit was anxious and perhaps prone to panic attacks; the way Fischbach and Rodriguez both reacted to Salvage’s fear and discomfort had seemed too normal, too _used to it._

Apparently, Goldie had realized this as well... hours and maybe even a day _after_ it happened.

And that was the problem.

“You figured them both out,” Goldie accused, finally looking at him. Freddy was somewhat taken aback by the way his blue eyes seemed to _spark_ \- what Freddy saw pass through those eyes passed much too quickly to identify, but there was one thing that underlain it all; _guilt._ “You knew the moment we sat down that he was scared.”

 _You knew that he was scared of_ me _._

That was the incomplete thought. Freddy didn’t know what to say- how to respond. It must have shown on his face as the golden bear abruptly stood up and walked over to his dresser.

“I’m getting a shower,” Goldie excused, yanking out his nightclothes.

“Goldie-” but he was gone before Freddy could even finish saying his name.

The silence fell in their shared room and Freddy let out a breath he wasn’t even aware he was holding. He leaned back in his chair and stared at the wall over his desk, a frown tugging at his lips.

Memories were flashing across his mind- “Springtrap” Salvage’s panicked expression as he looked to Fischbach for help, Fischbach’s indifference replaced with genuine concern and helplessness... Salvage’s entire countenance changing, Fischbach’s genuine amusement and... _relief_ in response. The spark of mischief in his eyes as he teased his friend.

The way he placed himself between his friends and the rest of the class, as though he was their protector. The way all five of them cast wary glances towards the rest of the class- towards Freddy and his friends. The way they all seemed somewhat panicked... all of them but Fischbach, wariness the only emotion seeping through his neutral mask.

 _Mask_ being the keyword there.

That bruise around his wrist. Him struggling to say something as simple as _no._ The shame as Freddy began actually _watching_ him- when he worded the question differently, when he handed his worksheet over for Fischbach to write the desired number down.

The way he looked like he was about to cry when Freddy figured it out, hardly even two minutes in.

His eyes trailed over to his phone and he frowned, a thought crossing his mind. However, he shook his head. “Don’t be stupid, Freddy,” he quietly admonished, sitting up straight and picking the magazine back up again. “Even if you tried... there’s no way he’d answer.”

Because, he knew, if something _was_ going on and nothing had been done about it yet, Alfred Fischbach was not going to tell. It was a stupid choice; maybe prideful, maybe ignorant, or maybe it was just a desperate attempt to cling to his friends- telling would mean separation, after all, and Freddy wasn’t quite sure just how deep Fischbach’s ties with his friends were.

He remembered the way Fischbach’s hand lingered on Salvage’s, a silent conversation passing within seconds between them, and he knew that they were deep. Too deep.

Fischbach wasn’t telling because he _needed_ his friends, and Freddy couldn’t do a damn thing about it.

He hated that.

* * *

“Today we’re runnin’! Four laps, remember, and no shortcuts, Jones!”

The gym class all groaned in unison as they began the run around the track field. Some, like Freddy and Goldie, started at slow jogs while others, like Foxy, started at a full sprint. Bonnie was somewhere between- faster than Freddy and his brother but much slower than Foxy. Chica wasn’t present- she had culinary at the moment, after all.

However, Freddy had noticed the moment he walked into the gymnasium that something was missing- and, ten minutes into class, it was _still_ missing. A quick glance around the track showed no bright blue fur, no flash of a gold rabbit, no hint of yellow, no pink and white fox and, most importantly to Freddy personally, no rosy-tinted brown bear.

All five of them were missing. As he actually scanned the surroundings, searching to see if he had simply overlooked them, his eyes met Bonnie’s as the rabbit looked over his shoulder, and the two Animals shared a frown.

The purple rabbit slowed down, allowing Freddy to catch up to him. Goldie was several paces behind Freddy, taking it easy, while Foxy was practically on the other side of the track already.

Essentially, he and Bonnie were completely alone.

“Ya look bothered,” Bonnie commented when Freddy reached him, and Freddy frowned at him.

“Well it’s only the third day of school,” he stated simply. “Usually it’s at _least_ a week before they start skippin’ classes as a whole group.” From what he had observed in the past, anyway. Granted, he had never had so many classes with them as he did that year.

_Thinkin’ about it, most of the classes we have with them we were switched into from other classes... It’s like... like..._

“My best guess is none of them were in good enough shape for gym today,” Bonnie muttered, scowling slightly as he unknowingly interrupted Freddy’s thoughts. “I mean, that bandage...”

“Don’t forget, no assuming,” Freddy warned his friend, though he sighed to himself because that had pretty much been his own assumption.

He thought about the bruise around the younger bear’s wrist that very first day of school, and he wondered just what else whoever had done it was willing to do.

_Something happened and so they all skipped._

“Yeah yeah,” Bonnie agreed dismissively, waving his hand. It was clear that he didn’t give a damn about the _no assuming_ rule Chica had insisted on. “Wonder if they skipped the whole day or just this class.”

“We’ll find out next period,” Freddy reminded him, glancing to his left as a footballer ran past full-throttle. He wanted to roll his eyes as the jock let out some cheers; apparently he had been racing his friend. _Morons. You’re gonna knock someone over..._

“Yeah...”

The two of them fell into silence, each in their own thoughts. _Of course they could easily have all just gotten sick at the same time. They seem to spend_ all _of their time together, inside and outside of school... so it isn’t completely out of the question that they would all catch the same bug. They-_

“Fazbear! Henderson! Pick up the pace!”

Startled, both students did as commanded. Freddy hadn’t even realized they had slowed down to a fast walk rather than the slow jog he had decided to stick with until the teacher called out to them, and then he realized Goldie had passed them at some point. Briefly wondering if Goldie had caught any part of the conversation, he sighed and decided to push the thoughts about his science partner aside. He needed to concentrate on _not_ failing the mile ( _how does one even fail the mile_ , he wondered as he remembered their freshman year gym class and his panicking brother).

He could think more about Fischbach and his group later.

* * *

“-just barrelled into me and knocked us both to the ground, the jackass!”

Freddy snorted in amusement as Foxy continued ranting, rubbing the back of his head where it had collided painfully with another student’s. The bear had known that footballer would get himself into trouble, running so carelessly that way.

Apparently he had run straight into Foxy, and the vulpine in question was _not_ happy.

“At least ya didn’t smash your nose on the ground,” Bonnie snickered, lightly nudging Foxy. “Then again, you totally could have gotten to go home for that.”

“You don’t have a concussion, right?” Goldie asked, as if wanting clarification before he would laugh. His voice was full of both amusement and worry. _Since when are you the mature one?_

“They would’a sent me home if I did,” Foxy snorted, dropping his hand to his side as they reached the classroom.

Immediately Freddy spotted Kain and Rodriguez as he entered, and a glance around showed that, in fact, all five of them were present. He barely noticed his friends stop talking as they entered the room, all taking notice of the students who should have been out on the track twenty minutes earlier.

Rodriguez was leaning on his left hand, his ears down and his eyes closed- he almost looked asleep, but the tight expression gave him away ( _he looks like he’s in pain,_ Freddy noted). Behind him, Salvage’s head was down on his arms, ears drooping behind him and expression hidden from sight. The only indication that he was awake was the light tapping of his fingers on his desk.

Fischbach? He was sitting up straight, completely still and expressionless as he just stared towards the front of the room. Freddy had absolutely no doubt that the bear had noticed them.

However, the younger bear gave no indication of even noticing Freddy as he slipped into his seat.

A look towards Blanc and Kain showed that they were acting equally strange; Blanc kept shifting in their seat, as if uncomfortable, and Kain’s ankles were crossed, tensely, under her desk. Being behind them Freddy couldn’t see their expressions, but from the way Chica and Foxy both looked back at him- both frowning with an odd... _glint_ in their eyes- it wasn’t looking good.

 _Well, I suppose this confirms that_ something _is wrong._

_If there was even still a doubt about it, anyway._

The bell rang and Freddy watched as Salvage sat up and Dr. Schmidt walked to the front of the room.

“Alright, class!” he started _much_ too chipperly for the heavy air of the classroom, “Homework!”

Freddy pulled the desired packet out of his binder, watching as Goldie scrambled for his own before turning around to collect his. They both knew the drill here- _pass it to the front._

A soft, but sharp, intake of breath next to him got his attention and he glanced to his right, wondering what had alarmed his classmate. It didn’t take him long to see it and his eyes widened- because now there was _absolutely_ no doubt in his mind.

There was a dark red stain on the top right corner of Fischbach’s packet.

_Blood._

“Pass it up and I’ll collect it at the front,” he heard Dr. Schmidt say, and he was only dimly aware of Bonnie and Rodriguez at the front turning around as well.

Fischbach’s blue eyes flicked over to him before quickly averting to Salvage’s. “Ketchup,” he muttered, supposedly to Salvage but Freddy knew who it was really meant for. It was an excuse directed towards _him._

Freddy wasn’t buying it.

He watched as Salvage took the packet and faced forward, slipping it under his own as he passed it to Rodriguez. Rodriguez turned around and Freddy just barely caught Rodriguez sliding his _under_ Fischbach’s. In that instant, he knew _exactly_ what the rabbits and bear were doing.

They were covering it up.

Freddy felt a flash of anger surge through him as he finally looked at Goldie. Goldie was staring back at him, his own eyes wide. He had seen it too.

Wordlessly, Freddy finally passed his own packet to Goldie, and Goldie quickly turned around to pass it to Bonnie. As he did so, Bonnie glanced towards Salvage and Fischbach, and as he turned around he looked down at the packets in Rodriguez’s hand. _Goldie must’ve said somethin’... or maybe he saw it, too. He was facin' us the entire time._

Freddy watched Dr. Schmidt start picking the packets up- he noticed the instructor pause for just a moment as he looked at Rodriguez, but he continued on without questions. Rodriguez’s gaze followed him and then Freddy saw what had made the doctor pause; a bruise on his cheek, dark and _very_ noticeable against the bright fur. Apparently Bonnie finally noticed it as well, now that the younger rabbit’s hand was no longer hiding it from sight, as even from there Freddy could see the purple rabbit’s expression tighten.

_Absolutely confirmed._

“Now that we’ve got the homework out of the way, let’s talk about your first lab,” Dr. Schmidt started as he set the homework in a neat pile on his desk, the left side of the pages facing the class. The bloodstain was out of sight. _Out of sight, out of mind... what a lie._ “You won’t be working on it until Friday, as today we’ll be doing the lecture first, but in it you will be observing how the steel wool reacts to the fire.”

 _Oh, this experiment._ Freddy promptly tuned out- they had already done this experiment back in freshman year, he already knew how to do it. He also already knew the _why_ and _how_ of it. If there was anything _new_ to it- well, he was sure Dr. Schmidt would give a reminder Friday when they actually _conducted_ the experiment.

He glanced at Fischbach. The younger bear was leaning to the right slightly, frowning as he watched Dr. Schmidt. However, before Freddy turned his own gaze back to the instructor, Salvage jumped in his seat, as though startled, and Fischbach’s eyes snapped to him as the rabbit pulled something out of his pocket.

It was a phone, Freddy realized a second before it was lowered out of his sight, and Salvage’s hand went up with absolutely zero hesitation. It was trembling slightly, the only sign that Salvage was at all nervous.

Dr. Schmidt paused, a frown crossing his face. It wasn’t displeasure, though- it seemed to be worry. “Yes, Mr. Salvage?”

In the front, Rodriguez straightened at the sound of his friend’s name. “May I step out for a moment?” Salvage requested, his voice wavering somewhat as Rodriguez turned around, eyes almost immediately going to the phone out of Freddy’s sight.

Dr. Schmidt nodded slightly as he said, “Of course.” His tone was soft and gentle; clearly he understood what it was that Salvage needed to do. Salvage was out of his seat hardly a moment after the human’s words were finished, hitting _answer_ before he was even out the door.

“Hello, this is...” was all Freddy managed to catch before the door closed, blocking off the rest of his words. Freddy frowned and looked at Goldie, but Goldie wasn’t looking at him; his eyes were trained on the door and its little window.

“Mr. Rodriguez, face the front please,” Dr. Schmidt said, almost boredly, and the blue rabbit did. Freddy glanced towards Fischbach.

His eyes were on his desk and he was fidgeting with his pen, ears slightly lowered. A glance to the middle row showed Blanc staring intently towards the door before turning away and Kain fidgeting nervously. Clearly all of them knew what was going on.

“Let’s go over lab safety now. No baggy clothes, no open-toed shoes, no loose hair, gloves are to be worn, goggles are a must- yes, even if you wear glasses, Ms. James. Eye wash station is in the back over there, handsoap is above the sink to the right...”

Freddy let out a breath and leaned on his hand, boredom already attacking. _We all know lab safety._ The instructor kept rattling off the lab rules and the symbols everyone already knew, unintentionally boring every poor student who happened to get shoved into the class, and Freddy steadily became more and more convinced that he would _never_ stop talking.

However, Dr. Schmidt _did_ cut off as the door opened again and Salvaged entered. Instead of going back to his seat, though, he approached their instructor, ears down and avoiding looking at the class.

He looked upset and worried. Disheartened, even. Freddy couldn’t hear what he was saying to the doctor, but Bonnie’s ears twitched ahead of them. Clearly he _could_ hear the conversation. _He’ll tell us later if it’s important._

“Very well,” Dr. Schmidt answered the golden rabbit, clearly unconcerned about the other students overhearing him as he picked up another packet and a loose worksheet. “I expect these to be done by Friday, Mr. Salvage.” The rabbit nodded slightly as he took the work and turned around, heading back to his desk.

He didn’t sit down; instead he said something softly to Rodriguez as he passed and knelt down by his bag, carelessly dropping the packets inside. Grabbing his notebook from his desk, he shoved that in and zipped his bag, standing up and pulling it onto his shoulder. The entire time, Freddy knew, the entire class’ eyes were on him- and Salvage knew it too.

“See you guys after school...” the rabbit directed towards Fischbach and Rodriguez, his voice soft so that Dr. Schmidt wouldn’t hear over his own talking.

“Good luck,” Fischbach murmured to his friend and Salvage acknowledged him with a nod before he turned around and headed out the door.

Freddy became aware that Dr. Schmidt was speaking again, but a glance around the classroom showed that absolutely no one was paying attention anymore. Either everyone already knew what the doctor was saying... or they were wondering just why the rabbit was leaving in the middle of the school day.

He looked forward again towards Bonnie, frowning. Beside him, Fischbach opened his own notebook and began writing something. Freddy didn’t look his way, though. Whatever he was writing... well, Freddy doubted it was of any real importance.

_Maybe he’s being a good student and actually taking notes for his friend._

* * *

“So, Bonnie,” Foxy was the one to start, as casually as possible, as they walked through the parking lot. “Mind telling us what that was about?”

Freddy glanced at their vulpine friend. He was fiddling with his prosthetic, his posture screaming boredom, but his mouth was pulled into a tight frown. His amber eyes seemed darker than usual, lacking their normal, mischievous gleam.

_Aren’t you the one who was insisting nothing was going on?_

“What?” Bonnie sounded honestly confused, frowning. Freddy almost wanted to smack the rabbit upside the head; only _two_ noteworthy things happened all day but there was only one that Foxy would be questioning.

They had foregone actually discussing what happened in science, not wanting their so-called “friends” to overhear and ask them questions. Freddy and Goldie _especially_ didn’t bring up the bloodstain, even though both bears had clearly been thinking about it. At lunch they sat with the other popular students who _couldn’t keep their mouths shut,_ and in art there were a few nosy gossipers who sat in the row behind them.

There was no way for them to talk about it without looking suspicious or being overheard.

“During science,” Foxy expanded, glancing up towards their taller friend.

“Oh.” The purple rabbit frowned slightly, realizing what the fox was asking about. Freddy simply watched him. “He apparently had a family emergency and had to go pick someone up,” Bonnie shrugged, glancing aside. The brown bear frowned; he wasn’t telling them everything and Freddy had a feeling that he wasn’t going to. “Apparently it was an hour away, so there was no way he would make it back to school for the rest of classes.”

Freddy glanced aside as a car drove through the lot past them. He raised a brow as he noticed Salvage was the one driving, but he understood why when he spotted Rodriguez in the backseat, face tilted towards the front passenger seat as though he was speaking to whoever sat there. He could only assume the others were in there as well.

_It seems like Salvage is their ride home._

“It sounded like he already had an arrangement with the school,” Bonnie mused aloud, prompting Freddy to look back towards him, brows raised. It didn’t seem like any of the others had noticed the old Chevy. “Dr. Schmidt looked and sounded like he already knew what was going on the moment he saw Salvage’s hand.”

“He was holding his phone,” Goldie put in, voice somewhat distant. “I heard it vibrate but he had it out of sight before I could actually _see_ it.”

_Translation: I didn’t see who was calling him._

“So Salvage had to leave for a family emergency,” Chica hummed, stopping beside the left passenger door of Goldie’s van. “That makes sense. But what was up with y’all at the very start? Freddy, ya looked like someone just keeled over and died right in front of ya.”

“Might as well have,” he and Goldie snorted in unison as the latter unlocked the van’s doors. _Time to finally tell ‘em._ _However..._

The younger twin glanced around, checking their surroundings in a way that reminded himself too much of Salvage and his friends. He noticed the star quarterback leaning against a shiny black truck and talking to the head cheerleader several spaces over. Both were human; their hearing wasn’t too good, so he felt confident that they wouldn’t hear. No one else was nearby, but he let his voice drop into a low whisper just in case.

“There was a bloodstain on Fischbach’s homework. Tried to excuse it as ketchup.”

Chica and Foxy frowned as they shared a look. It was clear that they were unsure of what to think; apparently Bonnie _had_ noticed the stain as no surprise was evident in his gaze.

Before Freddy could say anything else, the sound of laughter neared. He shut up.

Goldie cleared his throat, prompting Freddy and the others to look at him. “I don’t think a parking lot is the best place for this conversation,” he declared once he had their attention, gesturing to the vehicle as he spoke. _Get in_ was the command, loud and clear without even being verbal.

Freddy opened the passenger door and climbed in, settling back and putting his seatbelt on. He knew Goldie was right.

“Anyone could overhear us out there, ya know,” the golden brother explained needlessly as he slipped into the driver’s seat, eyes trailing to the group of junior varsity players passing them.

“Yeah,” Bonnie agreed as he claimed the seat directly behind Freddy. The bear glanced into the rearview mirror, frowning. “So Salvage had to run out in the middle of class, Fischbach’s homework was bloodstained, and Rodriguez had a big ugly bruise on his face. Anything up with Kain and Blanc today?” he asked, looking at Chica in the seat next to him. Foxy sat in the middle of the back seat, one leg crossed over the other as he leaned forward, a small scowl on his muzzle.

“Blanc wouldn’t sit still,” he informed them, shrugging slightly. “They were really out of it, too. Only tuned in long enough to watch Salvage leave and went right back to starin’ out the window.”

“Kain didn’t do much,” Chica added in. “Kinda just sat there, starin’ at her desk. Seemed tense but nothin’ really _off,_ per se.”

_Sounds off to me._

Freddy sighed and turned his gaze out the window, frowning. “Still think there’s a chance we’re misunderstandin’ the situation?”

His only answer was silence.

The golden bear pulled out of the parking lot, heading towards their house. The silence continued for several minutes, the only sound the vibration of the tires against the asphalt. “There’s always a chance,” he finally said, voice low and disbelieving of himself. _Slim chance._ “But I don’t think we are... not anymore, anyway...” he trailed off, clearly unhappy. Freddy could understand.

It was a bit of a blow to Freddy, thinking that their _lifelong_ classmates could have been suffering for years without him even noticing. He couldn’t even imagine how the others felt; for so long they had disliked those same classmates because of their oddities. Now said oddities weren’t so much _oddities_ as they were _signs,_ but nothing would ever take back those years of rolled eyes, sneers and jeers.

“I don’t think we know _exactly_ what’s going on,” Chica added with a sigh, prompting Freddy to look over his shoulder towards her. She was frowning, clearly thinking. “I honestly don’t think there’s one flat answer to this, guys. Somethin’s goin’ on but I just don’t think we have the full story.”

“It’s only the third day of school,” Bonnie pointed out, frown evident in his tone. “The third day we’re actually paying any attention, anyway.” Apparently he had realized that they’d already had twelve years.

“We’re bound to notice something if there’s anything else,” Chica concluded, getting nods of agreement from the males in the car.

Freddy frowned and silently considered everything they had noticed about their science partners. _It’s hard to piece a story together when you don’t even know the background of each individual part... and the only way to find that out..._

“Maybe we should talk to them about it?” Freddy suggested hesitantly, though he already knew how this suggestion would be met.

“What?” Foxy squeaked, sitting up straight as Freddy looked back at him. _“Talk_ to them about it? Are you _crazy,_ Fazbear?! It’s one thing watchin’ ‘em from a distance but actually gettin’ _involved-_ at that point we might as well just call the cops!”

“We can’t,” Goldie deadpanned, glancing up into the rearview mirror. “We’re in unfamiliar ground, Foxy. Besides, I don’t think you call up the cops to say “I think one of my classmates is gettin’ knocked around” or somethin’.”

“The CPS,” Chica put out, though her tone was flat; clearly she knew how well _that_ would go.

“They _usually_ give prior warning,” Bonnie dismissed, turning his gaze away. “They’re not good at hidin’ it but I get the feelin’ they’re damn good at hidin’ the _tracks."_

“Then what _can_ we do? We _can’t_ talk to them,” Foxy insisted, the scowl practically audible in his voice. “One, we don’t like them. Two, they don’t like us. Three, we _still_ don’t know what the hell’s goin’ on.”

“It wouldn’t kill us to be more friendly towards them,” Freddy shot back with a frown. He didn’t know why but he suddenly felt... defensive.

_What’s this “we” you’re talking about, Foxy?_

“Besides,” the bear added, _“I_ don’t dislike them, _I’ve_ always been neutral on this subject. The only reason _they_ don’t like _us_ is because you lot all started actin’ aggressive towards them. I clearly remember them bein’ neutral about us until they finally noticed.”

“Arguin’ won’t do us any good,” Chica interrupted, scowling, before Foxy could respond. “How about this, let’s compromise.”

“Compromise?” Bonnie repeated. His displeasure was clear in his voice _and_ on his face as Freddy watched his reflection. “What’s there to _compromise_ about? Someone’s gettin’ hurt, when someone’s hurt you fucking _help_ them, whether you like them or not!”

“Has it occurred to you that the best way to _help_ may be to _not_ get involved?” Chica questioned, raising a brow at their purple friend. “They’re always together, clearly they’re just as close as us five are. They don’t need us when they have each other.”

“Oh yeah,” Bonnie snorted derisively. His tone suddenly took a sarcastically peppy turn. “Yeah, let Rodriguez rely on Fischbach, both of whom have _bled_ in the last three days. Or better yet, let them rely on Blanc- the kid who barely pays any attention to where they’re going. Or Salvage, who’s apparently having family problems and is having to play the role of _parent_ already.”

 _Parent?_ Goldie and Freddy shared a brief, confused look, but neither got a chance to ask about it.

“Bonnie,” Chica started warningly, but the purple rabbit was having none of it.

“Their foundation is unstable, Chica. Face it,” he growled. Freddy glanced at the rearview mirror again so he could actually see his best friend’s expression. He was scowling- brow drawn, teeth bared, and a glare in his red eyes.

Bonnie was _pissed._

_I get the feeling Bonnie doesn’t want to compromise._

“What happens to houses built on unstable foundations? They _collapse.”_

“These are people, Bonnie, not houses-”

“What happens if Rodriguez gets killed, Chica? Or Fischbach- or _any_ of them? What then? If it takes all _five_ of them to be an _unstable_ foundation, what happens when _one_ of them falls? They _all_ fall, that’s what!”

The air was tense at the rabbit's implication. Freddy wasn’t sure how to respond, but he was remembering how Fischbach had comforted Salvage with a simple brush of the hand- how he had placed himself between his friends and the rest of the class. How he seemed to take up the role of protector with no hesitance, no thought. How each of them just so naturally, without a single word, fell into place inside their little group, like it was perfectly natural to cling so tightly to one another.

What _would_ happen without Fischbach there? What would the others do when they lost such an important member of their group? When they were all so fragile already, what would happen if they lost one of the few things keeping them grounded?

Freddy didn’t want to know.

“You don’t know that,” Foxy mumbled, almost too quietly for Freddy to hear. “You’re suggestin’ things again, Bonnie. Things that might not be true at all.”

“They’re troubled,” Goldie started uneasily, pulling into the driveway, “but they’re not... _that_ troubled, are they?”

_We don't know, Goldie._

“That’s what we need to find out,” Freddy answered softly, waiting for the van to stop before unbuckling his seatbelt. “The simple fact of the matter is _we don’t know._ And that’s a problem.”

He hesitated, setting his hand on the door handle before turning to look at his friends and brother. They were all looking at him, waiting for his judgment with a heavy air about all of them. The reality of the situation had long since set in for all of them, but now they had to make a decision. A _real_ decision beyond “keep an eye on them.”

 _How do you keep an eye on someone who won’t even_ look _at you?_

“I don’t know about you,” he started slowly, really considering what he wanted to say, “but I don’t want to keep being one more crack in their foundation. If their foundation, as Bonnie is suggesting, is unstable and _breaking_...” he paused, unsure about his next words. It was an admission of guilt... and an accusation- towards _all_ of them. Not just himself or his friends... but to all who had followed their lead. “I don’t want to be the thing that breaks it.”

With that, he opened the door and slid out. Hitching his bag up on his shoulder, he headed towards the front door of his family’s home. He knew the meaning of his words was clear.

Freddy had made his decision.

_I want to help._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the record, I absolutely love writing this story from Freddy and Alfred's perspectives; they notice so much, and most of their story is internal, carefully choosing what should stay thought and what should be voiced. Plus, Alfred's got a somewhat... poetic take on everything, and if you know me at all you know I love poetry and symbolism...
> 
> We're almost to the point where the stories all diverge and there's less cross-writing and less jump-cutting. Hooray! I'm excited for that personally, my biggest issue with writing this series of chapters was just how many details I had to get EXACTLY right, you have no idea how much editing I had to do because of tiny mistakes... It shouldn't take me two months to update this again, I promise! Well, I shouldn't promise that actually, I'm a college student and shit happens...


	7. The Colour of Hate, Alfred

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writing/literature/poetry is a pretty big thing with Alfred, though not nearly as important as music is. Just saying that before you begin reading! Also, we see a glimpse of the emotion hidden under Alfred's "mask" 
> 
> (You probably know what poem is referenced here in the very beginning)

_They say that the world will end in fire and brimstone... that there will never be a break from the burning, that it will continue on forever... and we’ll be left to writhe in agony, wishing- praying- for relief... begging for the fire to go out... but it will keep burning until, finally... finally, everything is gone... and it all just ends._

Tenderly, the brown bear brushed his fingers over his shoulder, watching himself in the bathroom mirror. He wasn’t wearing a shirt at the moment so the blood-splotched bandage stood out clearly against his cherry-tinted fur. The bandage was wrapped tightly around his left shoulder, restricting his movement and causing more pain than relief.

It was better than the open wound being exposed to the air, though.

_But I don’t think that’s how it will end. You don’t need fire and brimstone or even freezing floods to feel the agony... No, I don’t think the world will end that way._

His shoulder certainly _felt_ like it was on fire- his shoulder and upper back. Every movement brought with it a new, spiking pain that told him that he had failed to clean the wound properly. He would need help.

The scent of alcohol in the bathroom burned, causing his eyes to water and his throat to close up. It made him feel sick, scared, and pained all at once. Alfred looked down at the pile of bloodied beer-bottle shards and the soaked rag sitting on the counter next to his first aid kit, scowling sharply at the little assembly that summed up his entire life.

Carefully, he picked one of the shards up between two fingers, the red and brown liquid on it mixing together to make a colour that Alfred could only describe as being the colour of _hate_ and _hurt._ Disgust flashed through his eyes as the liquid hatred seeped into his fur.

It was warm.

_No. There is pain much worse than burning, pain much worse than freezing. At least those are only physical pains... but the pain that follows a father turning on his own son... the pain of a mother shunning her own daughter... the pain of a parent’s hatred for their own child... there is no pain worse than that._

Swiftly, he dropped the shard back into the pile and brushed the bloody mess of glass into the bin between the counter and toilet, and he tossed the rag in afterwards. There was no saving that rag now- its pristine white was forever stained brown and crimson and _hate_.

Turning back to the sink, he turned the tap on and began washing his hands, watching tiredly as the red water fled down the drain. Once the water cleared, he turned the tap off and dried his hands.

_I think that’s how the world will end. Not in fire. Not in ice. Not in floods and definitely not in a herald of angels._

_It will end in hatred._

_When we’ve lost the ability to love- to_ care. _When_ power _and_ control _is more important than_ connection _and_ peace _. When we can no longer see that beneath everything, we are all the same..._

His eyes trailed to the blood that had dripped onto the counter and floor. It was stark against the pale blue of the countertop and the grey of the tiled floor- it stood out, baring itself for the world to see in a way Alfred had never been able to do... in a way his friends had never been able to do. He almost envied it.

_When the world forgets we all bleed red, that is when all is lost._

“Alfie,” a voice called from the other side of the door, interrupting his inner thoughts. The voice was light and somewhat slurred; it was his mother. The voice brought relief... not because it was his mother but because it meant that it wasn’t his father.

After all, a mother like her wasn’t much of a mother at all.

“Out of the bathroom now, momma bear needs a bath~”

 _At five in the morning?_ He frowned and picked up his first aid kit, kneeling down and sliding it into its place at the back of the bottom drawer. Leaning over like that sent pain screaming up and down his body but he ignored it, schooling his face into indifference.

He wouldn’t give them the pleasure of seeing his pain.

 _You care so much about your hygiene, but you didn’t seem to care at all about your own son when father-dear patted me on the back with his bottle,_ he thought sarcastically- bitterly- as he straightened up and yanked his shirt on, ignoring the way his shoulder screamed in protest.

The shirt he chose was red... just in case the blood seeped through.

Maybe it was a bit spiteful but he left the blood sitting where it was. He turned around and opened the bathroom door where his mother stood, leaning against the frame and waiting for him. In one hand she held a drink and in the other she held a nightgown; she wore nothing but a short bathrobe, tied sloppily and already falling open. Her eyes were glazed and Alfred could already smell the alcohol. _No doubt she’s just taken some pills, too..._ She didn’t even glance at him, her unfocused eyes staring into the bathroom unseeingly.

Feeling somewhat disgusted by her, without making any contact, he slipped past the female bear and made his way across the hall to his small bedroom. He could hear the bathroom door click softly before he entered his own room, not looking back to watch the woman he called “mother” stumble into the bathroom.

Alfred didn’t glance down as he grabbed the stack of papers sitting on his desk, and he dropped them carelessly into his bag before harshly yanking on the zipper. It sent pain spiking through his left arm and his back but he didn’t give it any thought.

He was hurt, he was angry, and if he was honest with himself, he wanted to break something... but he wouldn’t. He would control himself, just as he always did.

He needed to remain calm... but that was hard to do when all he wanted was to curl up in a corner and die.

“Fucking hate this place,” he managed to mutter to himself as he grabbed a towel from the rack next to his desk, pretending he didn’t notice the way his eyes stung with more than the scent of alcohol. He quickly got to work on wiping away the blood and _hate_ spilled across his desk and chair, and he gave the old ratty carpet a displeased glare. He would have to find a way to either cover it or shampoo it- neither of which would be fun or easy. “Hate it all...”

Right then, Alfred was sure he hated _everything_. As he sat down on his bed and buried his head in his hands, the frustration, hatred, and _hurt_ overwhelmingly strong in his chest, he only had one wish.

He wished he was with his friends... laughing, safe, and happy.

* * *

The bear had known already that he would be skipping gym, and he had known that his friends would skip with him. What he hadn’t considered was that it would be _Blu_ who _really_ needed to skip.

All of his friends looked miserable, but Blu looked unsteady on his feet- Alfred was almost afraid that he would pass out, even. He kept silent about his own injury; no need to worry them more than they already were.

They skipped their morning of practice and history was a monotonous blur in his memory; afterwards, they all silently and without discussion made their way towards the gymnasium. They didn’t _enter_ it, however; when the coast was clear, they simply slipped around the side.

The gym was separate from the rest of the school, settled between the main building and the woods. Luckily for them, the area between the woods and gym was completely out of sight of everything, including all of the sports fields.

It had become their in-school refuge, the place they ran when they couldn’t handle something or other, and right then Alfred didn’t think any of them could handle gym class- for both the physical activity and the fact that those watchful eyes would follow their every move.

That had been nervewracking; everywhere they looked the day before, one or more pairs of eyes were on them... _watching_ them. Waiting. What for, Alfred couldn’t even begin to say… the only answer he could find was that all of them had majorly fucked up that first day, letting their nerves about being separated get the best of them. Today, he knew, would be no different until their last period.

The bear shook the thought from his mind as they rounded the corner and walked to the center of the wall, far out of anyone’s sight and with no chance of being spotted.

The idea of leaning back against the rough brick didn’t appeal to him, his shoulder and back throbbing at the mere thought of it, so he sat down beside Spring, back towards the woods, while Blu, Chii, and Mangle settled down across from them against the building.

Alfred observed his friends as they all got comfortable, but he could tell there was no getting comfortable- not really. Mangle was fidgeting and shifting, Chii was sitting oddly with her legs drawn up under her, Blu was slightly curled in on himself, and Spring just looked... _tired,_ for lack of a better description.

He himself was in pain and was just as miserable, but he needed to be strong.

For them.

“What happened last night, Blu?” Spring finally asked, his voice as gentle as it could be despite the worry resonating with each word.

“Mother barged into my room, yelled some, threw a wooden bowl at my head and then hit me,” Blu answered with a bitter sigh, resting his head against the bricks. Away from the prying eyes and ears of their classmates, he had not hesitated to tell them the truth. “On the bright side, no blood last night. Just a horrible headache and I ache everywhere, but I’ll be fine when I get some sleep.”

Alfred frowned; he actually _highly_ doubted that would make everything better, but it would certainly help. The problem was... _Just why are you so sleep deprived?_

“When was the last time you slept?” Mangle voiced all of their thoughts, their tone wary. Clearly they were dreading the answer as much as Alfred was.

“Uh, yesterday at Spring’s house,” was the answer they received, but it was obvious- at least, to Alfred it was- that Blu knew that wasn’t what they meant.

_Twenty-minute naps don’t count._

“No,” Mangle sighed, “ _real_ sleep. Like… a full night’s sleep. Dreams and all.”

“Ah, um,” the blue rabbit hummed softly to himself, as though considering the question. Alfred’s stomach knotted. “Saturday night I think?”

_Saturday night? That’s three whole nights...!_

Chii gasped, her blue eyes widening somewhat in horror. “You need to sleep! That’s not good for you, you could pass out!”

Blu glanced skywards as he said, “I’ll sleep tonight, even if I have to go to the old fort.”

The words brought up a memory; a group of seven year olds hiding out in the woods near Mangle’s house, back when the “nightmare man” lived in Spring’s house. The last time they were there was when they were all twelve, when Mangle’s father discovered it and it was no longer a safe haven.

That was _years_ ago.

Thankfully, hardly a year later the “nightmare man” and Spring’s mother divorced, but that was beside the point.

The point was, _why is Blu mentioning the fort?_

He had a horrible feeling he knew.

“The old fort?” Spring started, his tone worried and somewhat clipped. “We haven’t been there in nearly six years, Blu, it’s a deathtrap now...” Alfred glanced at Spring in time to see his eyes widen, his expression slipping from worried confusion to horrified realization. “Oh my god, _please_ tell me you haven’t been running off there by yourself, Blu...”

Blu glanced away, guilt dancing in his eyes, and Alfred felt his stomach twist painfully. _Anything could have happened... no, stay calm, Alfred, Spring’s starting to freak out..._

Realizing this as well, the younger rabbit quickly said, “It’s not often! J-just when I can’t stand staying home and, I just- I don’t want to bother you guys all of the time...”

That wasn’t the right thing to say at all. Alfred glanced over towards Spring, watching as the golden rabbit’s ears flattened. He wasn’t angry, just frightened for their friend’s safety- just like the rest of them.

“Blu, you know you can always come to my house,” Spring stated, as though they didn’t all already know. _Apparently one of us doesn’t..._ “Anything could have happened at that old treehouse, Blu- you could have fallen through the floor and broken your neck and we wouldn’t have even _thought_ to look there for you...!”

Spring was working himself up into a panic. Knowing that it wasn’t good for the rabbit, Alfred reached over and gently touched his shoulder, not drawing back even as his friend flinched in surprise.

“Spring,” he started, voice gentle but warning. “He’s fine.”

The golden rabbit glanced towards him, his bright green eyes looking dull and pained. “But anything could have happened,” he protested weakly. Alfred shook his head slightly.

“But it didn’t,” he told him simply. However, he turned to Blu, letting his younger friend see his own displeasure at the news. It was difficult, finding his voice again, but he managed to force out, “But it would... be... best to... not go there.”

He couldn’t say any more, but he didn’t need to.

Blu looked absolutely crushed; he had never been any of the reasons why Alfred had to force his words before. The bear felt somewhat guilty; his friend could clearly tell it was forced and that Alfred had been struggling.

This wasn’t about Alfred, though.

“Next time please come to me instead,” Spring pleaded with their friend, regaining the younger rabbit’s attention. “I don’t want anything to happen to you. I don’t care if it’s one in the morning, just don’t go _there_ again.”

Alfred watched as Blu simply nodded. He felt disheartened; Blu didn’t intend to keep his word. He could tell by the guilty glance towards the ground, the rabbit avoiding looking any of them in the eye.

_I’ll keep tabs on him then..._

“How are all of you holding up?” the blue rabbit asked, directing the conversation away from himself. Alfred frowned, finding his own gaze swiftly falling to the ground.

 _Not okay,_ he thought, and the silence that fell heavily around them seemed to echo his thoughts. _None of us are._

“I, uh,” Spring started, voice soft again, “forgot to take my medicine this morning.” Alfred glanced at his friend, furrowing his brow. However, the taller rabbit seemed to sense the silent question as he quickly continued with, “Plushie had the nightmare man dream again.”

Alfred closed his eyes and let out a breath. _What a coincidence..._

The words and their meaning settled in the air around them, but Chii broke the silence, pushing the conversation along and distancing themselves from a painful memory. “Charlie came into my room again,” she admitted softly, prompting Alfred to open his eyes and look at her. She was sitting straight, her legs tightly crossed and her hands balling into fists as she stared down at them. “Tried to... I... it doesn’t matter,” she decided, refusing to meet any of their gazes.

His heart hurt, just thinking how much shame she felt when she wasn’t to blame at all. Alfred could remember the pain she had been in the only time she tried to fight back and anger flashed through him. He wanted nothing more than to reach out to his friend, but he knew it wouldn’t be welcomed. Not right then, not when she could still feel the ghost of hands on her feathers.

“My parents got mad when I tried to... _refuse,_ ” Mangle spoke next, their voice hardly audible. Alfred turned his gaze to them, seeing them staring at the ground beside their legs. “Grabbed the switch and... well, I won’t be wearing shorts for a while.”

The implication was obvious; _I’m covered in switch marks._ Thin, painful, and _very_ noticeable.

It took Alfred a moment to realize next was his turn to speak, and when he did he let out a breath and lifted his gaze to the treeline past Spring. _I should have been mentally preparing myself while the others spoke._

The silence lasted for several seconds. He was afraid that he couldn’t speak... but he knew he needed to. They were worried about him. _I have to tell them._

It took a few more moments, but then he said, “Dad hit me with a bottle again. In the back and shoulder.” He wasn’t sure he’d be able to really explain it, so instead he pulled his left sleeve up, tugging it over his shoulder. It sent a wave of pain down his arm but he refused to let it show. “It... wasn’t close to empty,” he managed to add, glancing at them in time to see them all wince at the mere thought.

He pulled the sleeve back down and added, “Don’t think I got all the glass out. Won’t stop bleeding.” He didn’t add that it was hurting; that much was obvious.

The blue rabbit drew his knees up to his chest and rested his head against them, muttering, “Jesus Christ, why is it always this way...”

None of them had an answer for their youngest friend.

“I’ll check for glass for you,” Spring offered, his voice soft and worried. Alfred looked at him and shook his head slightly; a school bathroom was the last place he wanted to actually _show_ them what had happened.

“Not right now,” he said, watching Spring’s ears twitch. “Later.” _When we’re at your house, away from prying eyes and ears._

_When we’re safe again._

Spring gave a brief nod in understanding before turning to look their friends, a frown in place. Blu lifted his head, looking miserable and guilty and everything in between. Alfred didn’t feel much better.

_We’re all suffering._

Abruptly, Blu sat up and let out a breath, then he said, “Well, I think all of us deserve a lazy afternoon.”

“We’re not skipping the rest of school,” Spring immediately told the blue rabbit, and Alfred almost laughed. They were only in second period, if they skipped the rest of school they may as well have not even gone in the first place. “We need to save our days for big emergencies.”

Blu gave a small grin to Spring, and Alfred was relieved to see some sort of humour in his emerald eyes. “I actually meant _after_ school,” Blu informed the older rabbit. “Come on, we have art in the afternoon, like I’m gonna suggest skipping out on that.” The rabbit then pulled his phone out, glancing at the time. It occurred to Alfred that his own phone was still sitting on his desk, forgotten that morning in the bear’s distraction. “Then again, I might just crash after school...”

“If you make it to after school,” Mangle added with a sigh, watching their friend worriedly. “Honestly, maybe you should check out...”

“And go where?” Blu shot back, sliding his phone back into his pocket. “Besides, I can’t even check myself out, I’m not eighteen. Can’t go to the nurse, she’ll call my parents...”

It was a fair point. It was a policy that _really_ bothered Alfred- seniors could check out of school... if they were eighteen. That... discounted around half of the senior class for the entire first semester, at least.

Including Alfred, Blu, and Chii, and if Spring hadn’t made an arrangement with the school, he wouldn’t be able to check himself out until November.

_How annoying. Why is Durmont High like this anyway..._

The sound of thunder rolling in the distance broke through Alfred’s thoughts, and he looked up towards the sky. He hadn’t even realized it was cloudy. _Today is perfect for a storm, though..._ If any of them were feeling well, they’d probably say _fuck safety, let’s play in the rain!_

But... none of them were feeling well. There would be no running around, jumping in puddles, dancing out in the cold shower, slipping on the grass... no laughing, no singing, no anything.

“I wonder what we’ll do in art today,” Chii spoke up, breaking through the silence and dispelling Alfred’s disheartened thoughts. He glanced over towards her as she added, “I seriously hope it’s not holding a pencil again.”

Mangle was the one to pick up the conversation. “With how bad everyone was at it, it probably will be,” the fox snorted, glancing to their left. “I don’t think anyone got it.”

“It’s not that hard,” Blu said with a shake of his head. “They just need to practice with it some. Besides, Marion Marshal was already sketching out scenes. I think he already knew this.”

 _Of course, he pretty much lives in an art studio already,_ Alfred pointed out silently, but he chose not to speak.

Chii stretched her arms above her head, and the simple sight made Alfred’s shoulder ache. “Who knows,” she sighed, glancing skywards. “Think we should start heading in? The bell will ring soon.”

“And a storm’s coming,” Spring added. “Driving out to pick Plushie up will not be fun...”

Blu sighed and, using the brick wall behind him for support, slowly climbed up to his feet. “I imagine not,” he agreed quietly. “And the drive back even less.”

There was a silence that not even the wind and weather dared break, and then the others followed Blu’s lead and stood up. The insinuation in Blu’s words was clear.

_Plushie will have a nightmare and Spring will have to leave school to pick him up._

“Come on,” Mangle sighed, turning and walking away to head back to the main school building. “Time to head to hell.”

Alfred watched as Blu followed, rubbing a hand across his face. “I thought we just escaped hell, Mangle,” the rabbit shot back.

Spring and Alfred shared a look as they followed their friends, Chii trailing a few steps behind, as Mangle neatly and succinctly summed up what school now felt like;

“The other hell.”

* * *

If Dr. Schmidt noticed the odd, heavy silence that was hanging over Alfred and his friends, he didn’t comment on it. Alfred looked around at his friends, his heart hurting as much as his shoulder did. In front of him, Spring and Blu were both leaning tiredly on their hands.

Chii and Mangle both stood nearby, leaning against the wall as they were unwilling to sit in the Fazcrew’s seats. None of them minded, though; they just wanted to be close, at least for a little longer. They were silent and sullen and miserable... but they were close, and at that moment it was good enough.

Suddenly, Spring laid his head down and both Mangle and Chii pushed away from the wall, frowning as they made their way to their own seats, and Alfred could hear the voices of the Fazcrew echoing up the hall and into the classroom. He let out a soft breath, watching as Freddy Fazbear stepped through the door.

Fazbear glanced around, and Alfred knew he was noting their presence- and their lack of presence in gym. Oddly enough, the Fazcrew were suddenly silent as they went to take their seats.

Alfred gave no indication that he saw Fazbear, keeping his eyes trained on his rabbit friends. Both rabbits had shifted slightly to the right, as leaning on their left hands had placed them too close to their science partners’ personal space.

The bell rang hardly seconds later, and Dr. Schmidt was on his feet instantly. Alfred watched, silently, as he clapped his hands together and said, “Alright, class! Homework!”

 _At least I didn’t forget that this morning,_ Alfred thought to himself and he unzipped his bookbag and pulled out the mess of papers he had just shoved in there. His shoulder protested the action but he ignored it.

Locating the packet, he dropped the rest back in his bag, reminding himself to organize everything later... Then he actually looked at the packet.

He was at least 75% sure his heart stopped.

There was a dark red stain in the upper righthand corner of the packet, dried and harsh against the white of the paper.

Apparently his shock had been audible; Spring swiftly turned around, concern in his eyes, before his gaze caught the red. His green eyes widened slightly, and without even really thinking Alfred’s eyes flicked over towards Fazbear.

Both of the Fazbear twins were looking at him- at his homework- at the _blood._ Both of them were equally as wide-eyed as Spring was.

 _Fuck. Fuck. Fuck fuck fuckfuckfuck,_ he thought desperately, somewhat panicky, looking back at Spring. Finding his voice, he muttered, “Ketchup,” to his friend, even though they both knew it was for the Fazbears. Spring already knew the truth, after all.

The golden-furred rabbit took the packet from him and turned around in his seat before sliding the packet beneath his own. Judging from Blu’s expression, he understood what was happening.

Alfred averted his gaze to the clock; he didn’t want to look at Fazbear.

“Now that we’ve got the homework out of the way, let’s talk about your first lab,” Dr. Schmidt started as he set the packets down on his desk. “You won’t be working on it until Friday, as today we’ll be doing the lecture first, but in it you will be observing how the steel wool reacts to the fire.”

The bear _almost_ snorted; it was one of the most simple, common chemistry labs, and he had already done it- not even in chemistry, either.

 _It gains mass, it doesn’t lose mass,_ he suddenly thought to himself, watching the doctor animatedly explain this experiment that all of them had done before. _It’s weird but true._

He kept his gaze on Dr. Schmidt, only half listening as he nervously fiddled with his pen. However, after just a few minutes his attention was torn away from his instructor as, in front of him, Spring suddenly jumped in his seat and pulled out his phone. Just barely, on the caller ID, Alfred caught sight of _East Prest_ before the rabbit lowered it out of sight and raised his hand.

_East Preston Academy. That’s Plushie’s school._

“Yes, Mr. Salvage?” Dr. Schmidt acknowledged almost immediately, cutting himself off mid-sentence. Clearly he understood, too, what was going on.

“May I step out for a moment?” Spring requested, voice somewhat weak and nervous.

Their instructor was hardly able to get his “of course” out before Spring was out of his seat. Alfred watched the rabbit quickly answer the phone as he stepped out, his, “Hello, this is...” lost as the door shut behind him.

 _Guess the rest of the day we’ll be sans a rabbit,_ Alfred mused quietly, dropping his gaze to his desk and twirling his pen between his fingers. _I hope everything will be fine._

Experience told him, however, that it would not be.

It never was.

* * *

Alfred carefully held Blu in place as Spring opened the door. It wouldn’t be the first time Blu had fallen asleep in Spring’s car, but it _was_ the first time none of them had the heart to wake him up.

Unbuckling Blu’s seatbelt, Spring carefully picked the smaller rabbit up into his arms and headed towards the porch where Mangle and Chii waited for them, the front door unlocked. Alfred slid out of the car and closed the door behind him before following his friends into the house.

The heavy oak door swung shut behind him, clicking into place, and Alfred made his way to the living room. Spring was setting Blu down on the couch. Another, smaller rabbit was curled up, sleeping peacefully on the second couch against the far wall.

 _Two sleepy, hurting rabbits,_ Alfred mused, sadly, to himself. _And the rabbit who tries to be everything for them both..._

“Alfred,” Spring spoke up, his voice soft as both Mangle and Chii sat down beside the coffee table, pulling out their homework. “Let’s get that shoulder taken care of properly.”

With a slight nod, Alfred followed Spring upstairs to the golden rabbit’s bathroom. He didn’t much like that particular bathroom, but it was the one that was closest to Spring’s room, the one he kept all of his medical supplies and medicines in, so he wasn’t going to voice it.

Besides, it wasn’t like Spring needed yet another reminder of what happened in there, almost an entire year before...

Spring flicked on the light and Alfred frowned at the sight of the pills spilled across his counter. Clearly he had dropped the still-open container. The golden rabbit paused, frowning, before sweeping the pills off into the trash.

Alfred couldn’t really blame him; he wouldn’t trust medicine that had been sitting out on a bathroom counter for nearly ten hours, either.

“Guess the next refill’s sooner than my calendar says,” Spring muttered, clearly attempting humour but not at all feeling it. Considering that would be a few days, Alfred wasn’t feeling it either; now Spring would have to go without a little longer. That wasn’t good. “Come on, shirt off, Al.”

If it were any other situation, Alfred would have at least tried to twist it into a joke. However, Spring was tired- mentally, physically, and emotionally- and Alfred was in pain, so right then joking was the least of Alfred’s concerns.

Obediently, he carefully pulled his shirt off, relying on his right hand so he didn’t have to lift his left and aggravate the wound further.

When the red shirt- _thankfully it never bled through-_ was off and sitting on the counter, Spring stepped forward to help him undo the bandage. Alfred tried not to dwell on the fact that he had spent thirty minutes struggling to get that bandage on at just past four in the morning.

“Oh... Alfred...” Spring started, clearly surprised by just how _bad_ the injury actually was. Alfred glanced in the mirror towards his wide-eyed friend. “This... Maybe you should go to a hospital-”

“No,” Alfred immediately interrupted, voice clipped. “It’s fine. Simple.”

“Alfred, you’re still bleeding,” Spring told him. “Sure, it’s not _pouring_ blood, but it’s still there, especially now that there’s no pressure, and cleaning this is gonna hurt like hell- and yes, I can see glass...”

“Spring,” Alfred interrupted, watching his friend turn to the mirror to meet his gaze. “No hospitals.”

They seemed to have a short staring contest before Spring heaved a sigh and turned away, stepping over to the large closet across from the mirror. “Right,” he agreed, voice soft and worried as he slid the closet door open and grabbed the supplies he kept there. “That would bring up questions.”

“Especially after Blu’s been there twice,” Alfred added softly, watching Spring’s reflection return to the counter.

He watched as Spring just nodded, turning the tap on and running water over one of the beige rags he had pulled out. “I know,” Spring mumbled, concentrating now on Alfred’s injury. “They’re already suspicious enough as it is.” Alfred tensed up slightly as the soft, wet cloth gently touched the injury. It stung. “Especially the head doctor... I’m sure she’s looking for any excuse to report all of our families after...”

Spring’s words trailed off, leaving the thought in the air. He didn’t need to finish it, though; Alfred already knew what he meant.

_After November._

Alfred closed his eyes.


	8. No Fruition, Freddy

Pretending that he wasn’t thinking about it wasn’t very effective.

The silence hung over them all, settling there like a smothering blanket as they listened to Mr. Fitzgerald correct someone’s breathing technique. It was tense and, Freddy knew as he watched the other students around them, it was affecting their classmates.

To his left, a swallow fidgeted nervously, and a row in front of them a human girl kept glancing back, an unsure frown on her face.

When Mr. Fitzgerald told the class to pack up, Freddy practically  _ heard _ the silent collective sigh of relief as students scrambled to grab their stuff. Bonnie bounded over to the instrument shelf to put his guitar away and the piano was covered up by swift hands, and Freddy made his way over to his belongings.

The low hum of conversation started up, and Freddy turned to head to the door to join his waiting friends. He was stopped, however, by Mr. Fitzgerald approaching him.

“Mr. Fitzgerald,” he greeted, raising a brow questioningly. “Is something wrong?”

“I feel I should be the one asking that,” Mr. Fitzgerald told him, frowning slightly in concern as he stopped in front of the bear. “You and your friends are usually the life of the party here. Today it felt like we were at a funeral, and it doesn’t take a genius to know you five are the source of it. Is something going on?”

“No, Mr. Fitzgerald,” Freddy said automatically, but then he amended, “It’s nothing important, anyway. We’ve just got a lot to think about.”

“Well, if any of you need to talk about it, you know my door is open,” the man told him sincerely, and Freddy was suddenly struck by the fact that he and his friends were acting off for just a few days and  _ everyone  _ noticed.

Yet no one noticed Fischbach and  _ his _ friends acting strange for  _ years. _

_ Perhaps, _ he thought morosely,  _ we all just grew used to it. _

“Thank you, Mr. Fitzgerald,” he started, ears twitching as the bell rang, “but I need to get to math now.”

It was a dismissal, he quickly realized- he had just dismissed his  _ teacher. _

Mr. Fitzgerald knew it was a dismissal as well and simply sighed, nodding slightly. Freddy walked around him and headed towards his waiting friends, noting the way Goldie watched him with a raised brow. He shrugged to the unasked question and muttered, “Later,” to him as he passed him and out the door.

The others were quick to follow him out into the flooded hallway, heading towards their math classroom which was upstairs. As they fought through the crowd, Freddy considered the options they had.

They could go to a teacher or trusted adult- one of their parents, maybe even Bonnie’s since she was a doctor- and tell them about their suspicions, but that would probably end with the authorities involved... and, of course, the high chance of failure, assuming everything went exactly as they predicted it would. The group of friends was sneaky; they would definitely know how to cover it up and would even help each other hide it, just as the rabbits had, without a single word exchanged, worked together to hide Fischbach’s bloodstained packet from sight.

They could go ahead with their plan and try to... befriend them? Freddy wasn’t actually sure  _ what _ they were doing- being more friendly didn’t say become friends, but becoming someone they could trust and rely on meant they couldn’t be anything less. It wouldn’t be easy, he knew; the group had a natural mistrust of  _ anyone, _ and when it came to Freddy and his friends, it was highly amplified. 

_ Especially _ when they were all together.

They could also do nothing, like Foxy had wanted, but Freddy wasn’t sure he could live with himself if he and Bonnie were right and they had just stood there when they could have done something. No, he knew, that wasn’t an option. Not really.

“So,” Goldie suddenly started, breaking the relative silence around them as they made their way towards the classroom, “when exactly  _ are _ we doing this?”

No one had to ask what  _ this _ was. “Not at lunch,” Bonnie answered without hesitation, and Freddy knew he had been thinking about it too. “Putting them on the spot in front of half the student body would not be a good idea.”

_ No duh. _

“Yeah, it’d probably send Salvage into a panic attack,” Goldie agreed with a soft sigh, and Freddy glanced over at him. He was frowning sharply, clearly thinking. “Which would instantly earn the others’ hatred forever, I’m sure.”

Freddy dodged around another student before saying, “Probably, yeah.” Deservedly, too. Freddy wouldn’t appreciate someone freaking any of  _ his _ friends out, after all. “But we can’t try in math class, either, since Jeggs, Creol, and Walker are in there, too.”

Just the thought of those three frustrated Freddy, but he pushed the thought aside to concentrate on their conversation as Foxy said, “We could just wait until tomorrow.” They all paused the conversation as Foxy had to physically shove someone out of the way, though the door was looming closer finally. “Y’know, when we have to talk to ‘em one-on-one anyway.”

“Or if ya want we could just wait until Monday,” Chica suggested. “You guys could try in gym.”

_ You don’t have gym. _

Of course, it only took him a moment to register her tone; she wasn’t being serious.

Goldie was too caught up in his own thoughts to notice this, Freddy mused, glancing at his brother who appeared to be in thought.

“I don’t think approachin’ ‘em as a group- our group or their group or both- is a good idea, actually,” Goldie told them, and Freddy nodded absently in agreement.

“Why not?” Foxy questioned, clearly not seeing the problem with approaching them as a group.

_ Well geez, Foxy, I wonder, _ Freddy thought bitterly before quickly reprimanding himself for it. Not everyone thought the same way he and Goldie did- especially Goldie, who seemed a bit hung up on the whole “anxiety” factor.

Not that that was a bad thing; it would certainly help with keeping the more... headstrong of the group from jumping in headfirst without regard to how their classmates would react.

“Well,” Goldie started patiently, “they would probably react to us as a collective but we want ‘em to react as individuals, like they did in Dr. Schmidt’s class that very first day, right?”

“Right...” Foxy agreed slowly. After a moment, though, his expression changed and his eyes flicked over to Freddy.

_ At least he understands, _ Freddy thought, glancing towards the ceiling.  _ They’ll react according to their group opinion, not their personal opinion. _

“So basically, we approach them one-on-one, not as groups,” Chica summarized. 

“Right,” Goldie confirmed with a nod. Chica seemed unsure, her brow furrowing and looking over towards the elder twin.

“Seems a little... predatorial, doesn’t it?” she questioned. “I mean, separate them from the pack...”

Freddy understood.  _ We’ll essentially be taking advantage of the fact they’re outside of their comfort zone. _ Thinking of it that way  _ did _ seem pretty low and predatorial, but... 

“It’s either that or let ‘em influence each others’ reactions,” Freddy explained calmly, pausing outside of the math classroom’s door to peek in, making sure the subject of their conversation wasn’t in there. “They’re already suspicious of us, they’ll be on alert even alone- if we approach ‘em as a group or all at the same time it might be seen as some kind of attack and put ‘em on even higher alert.”

The classroom was empty save for Mr. Fueller, but he was a human so it would be fine.

“I feel like we’re making war plans,” Chica stated from behind Freddy. He could practically  _ hear _ her shaking her head. “This is ridiculous, they’re classmates the same age as us, we should be able to just approach them.”

Just imagining how disastrous that would be made Freddy smile wryly. She had a point, but unfortunately that didn’t change the fact of the matter. Not anymore. 

He walked into the classroom and dropped down in his seat, Goldie sitting down on his left, Bonnie sitting on Goldie’s other side, Foxy behind Goldie, and Chica behind Bonnie. Chica and Bonnie weren’t in the right seats but that was fine; they’d move when it came time.

No one answered Chica, knowing she was right; it  _ was _ completely ridiculous that they couldn’t just approach their lifelong classmates.  _ But whose fault is that, I wonder? _

Turning around to face Foxy, the “center” of their... “circle,” Freddy leaned in close to continue their conversation in relative privacy. 

“So not here and not lunch, but you’re determined to try  _ today?” _ Foxy asked, his ears flicking as the bell practically screeched, warning students all over the school that they had two minutes to get to class. “With the way they were actin’ yesterday they might not even come today.”

“They’re here,” Freddy stated quickly, remembering the walk to the music room. They had passed right by the group, and the group had been laughing quite happily. Frankly, Freddy was surprised Foxy hadn’t noticed them. “I saw them this morning in the hall. They seem much more, ah...” What was a good way to put it? “... alive today.”

It was the only word he could think of; compared to yesterday, one of them just  _ smiling _ would have seemed more lively.

“We could try in art,” Chica suggested, glancing around them. “There’s not that many people in there.”

“Ashley Creol is,” Goldie immediately dismissed. Movement from the corner of his eye got Freddy’s attention and he glanced over towards the door, noticing Salvage pause in the doorway. “We approach them within her sight and the rumour mill will go wild.” Salvage stumbled forward; clearly one of his friends had run into him, not noticing that he had stopped. “Plus, they stick together in that corner- and we  _ definitely  _ don’t want to approach them when they have their backs to a corner.”

Straightening up, Salvage approached them, and Freddy looked back at his friends. None of them seemed to notice the approaching group. He briefly considered warning them, but... he was somewhat curious to see what Salvage and Fischbach would do.

“Yeah, we don’t want that,” Foxy agreed with a snort. Salvage stopped just a few feet from the desks; Freddy just barely caught the sound of his footsteps cease. “Really, I think we should wait for Monday, there’re less conflictin’ factors-”

“Excuse me,” Fischbach interrupted, his voice soft. It carried, however, and caused Goldie to jump in surprise and Bonnie and Chica to snap to attention. Foxy’s jaw snapped shut, as if that would hide hise words, and then he uttered out a, “huh?” Freddy turned to look at their classmates, raising an expectant brow. 

Seeing that the Animals were confused, Fischbach cleared his throat and looked towards Bonnie, stating simply, “You’re in my seat.”

Freddy didn’t know whether to feel bad or not at the confusion on his friends’ faces as they registered the words. He had a feeling Bonnie had been too busy internally panicking at possibly being overheard to actually understand the meaning behind the group’s approach. “Oh- right,” Bonnie muttered, quickly slipping out of the desk and moving over to his own right beside it. Chica followed suit, sliding out of the desk she was sitting in and stepping back to her own.

The bear watched as Fischbach and his friends watched them, matching wary expressions on their faces, before they split up to take their seats. Fischbach’s gaze momentarily flicked over to Freddy, but then it was gone, the bear turning to Kain sitting behind him. Oddly enough, neither said anything.

More students filed in, but Freddy had nothing to note about them. They didn’t matter to him, not right then.

They weren’t the ones plaguing his thoughts, after all.

* * *

When Foxy slammed nose-first into the doorframe, Bonnie immediately burst into laughter and Freddy just shared a bemused look with Chica, unsure of what to think at that moment.

“Stop laughin’!” Foxy growled to Bonnie, and Freddy frowned as the rabbit managed to get a “never!’ out before his foot caught on the metal leg of the desk. With a yelp, the purple rabbit tumbled, his backpack weighing him down, and his hand flew out to grab onto  _ something, _ but he only managed in slamming his arm against the desk and, subsequently, the metal beams beneath.

“Ow...” Bonnie blinked and pushed himself up somewhat so he could look up at them. Freddy frowned and went over to his friend, pointedly ignoring Goldie’s “karma” comment, and held his hand out for the rabbit to take.

“Oh yeah, like you weren’t laughing, too,” Bonnie huffed at Goldie, accepting Freddy’s offered hand. Freddy pulled the rabbit to his feet, and Bonnie slid the dislodged desk back into its place.

“How the hell did you hit the doorframe, Foxy?” Chica questioned, but Freddy was studying Bonnie’s arm. The rabbit had, seemingly unconsciously, reached up to rub at his arm. Undoubtedly it was hurting like hell, Freddy knew; Bonnie fell pretty hard. However, deciding there was no damage beyond bruising, Freddy turned his attention back to his friends to find them heading out the door.

“I was distracted,” Foxy answered, and Freddy and Bonnie both went to follow them. Foxy poked his nose, pouting, and turned to Freddy. “Is it broken?”

“Ya didn’t hit the wall  _ that _ hard,” Freddy laughed, patting his friend’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, your nose is still on straight.”

“And I thought you were on my side,” Foxy whined pathetically, though the gleam in his eye told Freddy it wasn’t serious. “Oh how you wound me!”

“You deserved it,” Bonnie stated matter-of-factly as he rubbed his arm, and Freddy saw Foxy raise his brow. It wasn’t a mocking or joking expression, but Freddy didn’t have time to bring it up as the fox had to skirt around someone just standing in the hallway.

When Freddy could see Foxy’s face again, he was wearing a haughty look. “Oh please,” he scoffed, “I deserve to go home.”

None of them missed a beat, chorusing, “Nah,” but Chica then added, “You don’t get out of your embarrassment that easily.”

“On the bright side,” Goldie started, tone upbeat, “only Salvage and his friends saw you stupidly walk into a wall, so it’s not like it’ll get all around school.”

Freddy snorted softly at that, heading into the English classroom and claiming the desk he’d sat in Tuesday. Bonnie slid into the seat to his right and Goldie plopped into the seat on his left, while Foxy settled in front of Bonnie and Chica sat beside him.

Glancing around at the desks- there were twenty or so, he noticed- he asked, “Who all’s in this class? I didn’t really pay much attention Tuesday.”  _ Because I was too busy thinking. _

“All I know is Rodriguez and the rest of them are in here,” Bonnie said with a shrug, which was mirrored by Foxy. “They came in late, remember?”

_ Yes, of course I noticed  _ that.

“Yeah, we knew  _ they _ were in here,” Chica pointed out with a snort, shaking her head. “Even if we hadn’t been watching them we would have.”

It was true. They had always noticed Fischbach and co’s presence, so it wasn’t very strange that they’d notice them when even paying only half attention.

The subject was dropped, however, as more students began entering the room and taking their seats. Then there was the subject of most of their conversations recently- Spring Salvage and his little group of friends.

Freddy noticed none of them were exactly smiling, though Rodriguez  _ looked _ like he was, and Fischbach had a loose grip on the fox’s arm as though he was leading them. The group passed them to go to the desks behind them, pointedly ignoring their presence. Of course, Freddy knew, they always ignored their presence- right up until one of his friends said something about them, anyway.

And even then there was only half a chance of them reacting.

“Freddy,” Goldie started quietly, leaning over to him. Freddy turned to look at his brother, raising a brow. “Did we have homework for this class?”

“I would’ve told’ja if we had,” Freddy answered, somewhat amused by his brother’s last-minute worries. “And ya should’ve asked me that yesterday, not while we’re here. If we  _ did  _ have homework, ya wouldn’t have nearly enough time to complete it.”

Goldie pouted at him and lightly hit his shoulder. “You suck, bro.”

“We’re twins,” he simply shot back, chuckling as Goldie turned his attention to the front of the room. However, as he did so, Salvage’s voice caught Freddy’s attention, and Goldie’s ears twitched, indicating he could hear the rabbit, too.

_ “Hey, Al, did anything seem...  _ off _ about Mr. Fueller to you?” _

_ “He seemed very... ah...” _

_ “Creepy? Unnerving?” _

From the corner of his eye he saw Bonnie turn to him, so he looked at his friend expectantly. “I’m gonna go to the nurse, if Mrs. Mittel asks,” Bonnie told him, and Freddy frowned, immediately concerned.

_ Was his little tumble worse than we thought? _

“Why?” he asked, and Bonnie held his left hand up. On the fingertips the fur was somewhat redder than they should have been, and Freddy understood, glancing at his arm. “Oh.”  _ He  _ did _ hit the metal under the desk, didn’t he? _

Bonnie slid out of his seat and headed to the door just as the warning bell rang. Foxy turned around to look at Bonnie’s desk.

_ “I don’t like him.” _

_ “Me neither. It’s too much like... how my... in public... and the... you know.” _

“He went to the nurse,” Freddy told the fox, watching as Foxy glanced over at him. “If you had been payin’ attention to us you’d know that.”

“Why?” Foxy asked, looking confused. “What’d I miss?”

_ “It was kinda chilling. All sorts of, uh, bad feelings.” _

“Turns out when he hit the desk earlier he got cut by some metal,” Chica told him before Freddy could, and Freddy was somewhat impressed that she had actually heard. The bell rang, so she dropped her voice so the teacher wouldn’t hear her. “Didn’t notice.”

_ “You guys talking about Mr. Fueller? Did any of you notice how his hand lingered  _ way  _ too long on Marion’s shoulder when he was “helping” him solve a problem?” _

Freddy frowned.  _ That  _ didn’t sound good.

“He should’a noticed,” Foxy muttered, turning back around again. Freddy, however, was paying more attention to the conversation going on behind him, now.

_ “He did it to Fazbear, too. The older one.” _

_ Wait, what? _

“Some things just escape our notice,” Goldie told the fox, his voice somewhat distant. “It’s natural.” Freddy looked at him, frown deepening worriedly, and the golden bear just glanced back at him. 

_ We’ll talk at home, _ that look said.  _ Don’t say anything here. _

Freddy frowned.

_ “I didn’t notice.” _

Salvage sounded guilty for that. Freddy couldn’t say anything, though; he himself hadn’t noticed, either.

_ “Me neither.” _

_ I didn’t notice Mr. Fueller put his hand on my brother. I’ll have to talk to Goldie, find out if it was as bad as it sounds. _

With that decided, Freddy looked towards the front of the classroom where the teacher, Mrs. Mittel, was talking about... something or other.

“As you know I have three other classes, each of which has a summer essay assignment, too. I’ve only managed to- excuse me, you five.” The conversation behind Freddy promptly cut off. “Class has begun.”

_ Looks like they got too caught up talking about Mr. Fueller, _ Freddy thought, leaning on his hand as the teacher continued.

“As I was saying, I’ve only managed to grade a few classworth’s of essays and, unfortunately, your class is not complete yet, so you’ll get those back on Tuesday at the end of class. Now...”

Freddy just wanted to get home now.

* * *

When Foxy tripped over Chica’s easel, so reminiscent of Bonnie just that morning, all Freddy could do was watch as the fox hit the ground, his pencils scattering everywhere and his cup of ink shattering on the floor, sending the black liquid flying forwards and skywards.

Unfortunately, “forwards” was right towards the corner where Fischbach and his friends had taken up residence.

With a squeal, Rodriguez darted off to the side and Blanc practically dove at the counter behind them. Kain, on the other hand, took the quicker, less-safe route and hid behind the taller rabbit who seemed too shocked to even move.

Fischbach didn’t even attempt to move, watching in displeasure as the ink hit himself and his friend. Almost immediately, the rosy bear attempted to wipe the ink off of his arm.

Freddy noticed him subtly wince as he did so, as if it pained him to move his arm.

Ashley Creol began howling with laughter, which was annoying, and a few other students joined her, but Freddy could only think  _ Dammit, Foxy, now they’re never gonna trust us! _

Mindfully, however, Freddy went to help his friend up as Chica removed the backerboard from his back. Foxy was watching the scene with horror, and as Freddy grabbed his hand and pulled him up to his feet, he groaned, “Oh shit.”

Apparently, Freddy mused, he too realized what a big fuck-up he made.

Then the most bizarre thing happened. Amongst Creol and her posse’s laughter, Salvage said, “Hey, Al, you got a little somethin’ on your shirt.”

Freddy looked back at the rabbit and bear, somewhat shocked. The rabbit was making a joke of it- even though Mr. Smith had made it  _ very _ clear that ink would  _ ruin _ clothes.

Fischbach just smirked at the rabbit and tapped on his own cheek, mirroring the splash of ink across Salvage’s face. The rabbit seemed to understand, his eyes widening almost comically as his hand darted up to his cheek, immediately finding the liquid sinking into his fur.

Relaxing, Freddy shared a look with his friends. It looked as though the two ink-splattered Animals were more amused than angry about the accident.

Then Ashley Creol just  _ had  _ to ruin everything.

“Well,  _ Springtrap,” _ Creol called, and Freddy noticed Goldie wince at the nickname  _ he _ had coined back in middle school. Freddy glanced at the human who was leaning on her easel, smirking over at the golden rabbit. “Now you’ve got something to match that ugly scar, huh?”

_ Oh now that’s just low, Creol. _ Freddy scowled and beside him, Goldie made a somewhat strangled, muffled sound in his throat. 

Besides that cruel pre-teen nickname, Freddy’s friends had  _ never _ targeted Salvage’s scars. They didn’t know the story behind them and now, frankly, Freddy was  _ afraid  _ to know.

It was Rodriguez who answered, a sneer clear in his voice as he stated, with absolutely no hesitance or pause, “Yeah, but it would match  _ so _ much better with your dead black heart.”

_ They’re actually responding directly to her, _ Freddy realized, his gaze snapping back over to the group of friends in shock. They were back together, each of them-  _ except _ Salvage, the one she had actually insulted- glaring towards Creol. 

They looked  _ pissed. _

_ I think Creol just made a mistake. _

“If she even has one,” Blanc scoffed, crossing their arms and looking more grounded in reality than Freddy had  _ ever _ seen them. They wore a scowl on their face, and Freddy couldn’t help but think that the amount of hate and malice on their face in that moment alone had  _ never _ been directed towards Freddy or his friends in four years.

Combined.

_ Wow, Creol just achieved in one sentence what Bonnie and Foxy have been striving towards for four years. _

_ I guess you just have to be a god-awful person. _

“True,” Rodriguez agreed, his steely gaze still on the human whose expression was slowly morphing into anger. “Someone like her is nothing but an empty husk, anyway, feeding off of everyone else’s misery.”

“Damn,” Bonnie muttered, just barely loud enough for Freddy to hear. “He’s never said anything like that about us.”

Straightening up, Creol shouted, “What did you just say, you Mexican fuck?!”

Immediately Chica growled. “Excuse me?” she muttered darkly, and Bonnie let out a low growl of his own. Freddy and Goldie shared a scowl.

_ Do you have to bring race and nationality into this? _

“For the record,” Rodriguez started, soundly somewhat bored, but his eyes narrowed as he spoke, “I’m  _ Spanish, _ not Mexican! Learn geography!”

“Whatever,” Creol scoffed, clearly not caring that Spain and Mexico were on two  _ completely _ different continents, as she began observing her fingernails. She lifted her head slightly and Freddy was suddenly reminded of Salvage’s posture from that very first day of school. In fact, he realized, the posture that Salvage had taken up was practically the  _ same _ as the posture Creol had adopted. Only where Salvage had been mocking Creol was one-hundred percent serious. “You still speak a stupid language, anyway.”

Rodriguez snarled suddenly and started forwards, but the golden rabbit quickly caught him by the shoulder, stopping his threat mid-step.

_ He’s  _ really _ never done that to any of us. _

“Oh please,” he scoffed now that he could no longer move towards her, “at least Spanish makes  _ sense, _ English is so weird- it’s an amalgamation of different languages.” Rodriguez’s eyes then widened as he put on a  _ very _ fake horrified expression, bringing a hand up to his mouth. “Oops, sorry,” he started with mock-sincerity, “I forgot- bimbos don’t know big words like amalgamation!”

_ I think Rodriguez wins this battle of wit, _ Freddy thought, glancing over towards Creol whose face had turned puce.  _ Even if I don’t agree with him or his methods, at least he’s not being a racist fuck about it all. _

“I will-” Creol started, but then, suddenly, Mr. Smith was there, his own cheeks flushed with ill-veiled anger as he stepped between the blue rabbit and the blonde human.

“That’s enough, you two!” he started, voice not quite a shout. He glared between the two students, and Rodriguez visibly backed down in the face of the man’s anger. “Act your age, all of you!”

_ Not everyone was involved, Mr. Smith. There’s no “all of us” to say that to. _

“Sorry, Mr. Smith,” Salvage said nervously as he pulled his friend back, closer to the rest of them. “Won’t happen again.”

Rodriguez muttered something that earned a short glare of reprimand-  _ shut up, _ that glare said- from Fischbach, but it either went unheard or ignored by Salvage and the instructor.

Mr. Smith’s gaze swept over the students as he commanded, “Get back to work, all of you.” Freddy watched the human turn to the ink-splattered students and said, “Mr. Salvage, Mr. Fischbach, if you need to go home and change clothes, you’re excused.” Neither made any motion to leave, even as Mr. Smith’s gaze landed on Foxy, who had been frozen throughout the entire ordeal. “No more accidents, Mr. Jones,” the artist warned.

“R-right,” Foxy agreed, quickly becoming unfrozen and reaching up to rub the back of his head. Freddy almost felt bad for just how nervous his friend was. “Got it.”

“Ms. Sanchez, secure your backerboard properly, and Ms. Creol,  _ easels are not for leaning! _ You break it, you pay the damages fee, got it?” Freddy couldn’t help but smirk, glancing towards the human.  _ Won’t be getting your way in this class, now will you, Creol? _ “Mr. Fazbear, get that smirk off your face, and Ms. Sanchez, whatever you’re about to say;  _ don’t.” _

Freddy’s smirk promptly dropped and he glanced over at Chica, whose beak snapped closed. She did  _ not _ look happy.

Mr. Smith turned on his heel and stalked back to the front of the classroom, leaving the students in an awkward silence. Slowly, everyone returned to their easels- except Foxy, who scurried over to the counter to grab a wad of paper towels. 

“For the record, Creol,” he heard Chica mutter, her voice too low to carry across the studio to the angry teacher, “Spanish is my first language. And I was  _ born _ in Mexico.”

Freddy glanced over at Creol, noting with some satisfaction how the colour abruptly drained from her face. Apparently she had realized  _ just _ what she had done during that little argument with Fischbach’s friends.

In her attempt to insult Rodriguez, she had insulted Chica. And unlike Rodriguez, Chica was part of the Fazcrew.

Basically, if they wanted to, they could make the rest of her school career  _ hell... _ because Freddy and his friends had much more influence than she did.

For the first time ever, Freddy was more than a little tempted to use it.

He turned back to the still life, watching Salvage and his friends just beyond as they continued drawing in silence.

None of them were smiling.

* * *

“Goldie-”

“I know  _ exactly _ what you’re about to say,” Goldie cut him off. “And the answer’s yes, and it was  _ fuckin’ creepy, _ but it was just my shoulder so it’s not a big deal.”

Freddy scowled at his brother, dropping down on his bed. He’d just gotten back from driving Bonnie, Chica, and Foxy home, and it was almost ten o’clock. “Goldie,” he started, “that man shouldn’t’ve put his hand on your shoulder at all,  _ especially _ if it made you uncomfortable.”

“It’s no big deal,” Goldie repeated, frowning at him.

“Would you be sayin’ that if our roles were reversed?”

There was a brief moment of silence before Goldie scowled and tossed himself onto his bed. “Of course I wouldn’t, I’d be callin’ for his head on a platter,” he muttered bitterly. “That guy was creepy as hell, Freddy, I don’t like him.”

“I don’t think anyone does,” Freddy sighed, shaking his head and remembering Fischbach and Salvage’s conversation. “Especially if he was makin’ students uncomfortable.”

“Teachers lean on shoulders all the time,” Goldie muttered, “but somethin’ about him was unnerving.” After a few seconds of silence, Goldie sighed and sat up, looking over at him. “But enough about that, we don’t have to worry about that guy until Tuesday. We need to figure out how to approach Salvage and them tomorrow.”

“We’ll be alone with them in groups,” Freddy supplied, frowning at his brother. He didn’t want to just drop the subject, but he could understand his brother’s awkwardness and hesitance to talk about it.

For all they knew, they were just reading too much into the man’s actions.

“Yeah, but we’ll be catchin’ something on fire so I doubt that’s a good time to try startin’ a casual conversation,” Goldie snorted, shaking his head. “If Creol is smart, she won’t come to school tomorrow. If she doesn’t we could try art.”

“If we knew their schedule, we could try and get them during a free period, too,” Freddy mused, but then he sighed. “But it’s highly unlikely that  _ our _ free period matches up with theirs.”

“You assume they have the same free period.”

“Goldie, their schedules are perfectly matched up,” Freddy pointed out, raising a brow at his brother. “I don’t know how, but thinkin’ back on it we have never had a class with less than all five of them.”

The golden bear frowned as he mentally reviewed the past few years, his brow furrowing as he realized that Freddy’s words were true. It was either all or none. “That would explain a lot, huh.”

“Yeah.”

Silence fell over the twins, neither sure of what to say. After a few seconds, Goldie added, “I am so not sittin’ with Creol at lunch, by the way. Not after those comments she made.”

“I think Chica would murder us if we even entertained the idea,” Freddy chuckled mirthlessly, reaching over to his desk to grab a book lying there. He glanced down at the cover. “Rodriguez was rather brutal about it all, too.”

“Four years of us tryin’ to get that kind of response and Creol does it in ten seconds flat,” Goldie sighed dramatically, sliding his laptop off of his desk and opening it. “Seems like a waste of wit, though- people like that don’t appreciate it.”

“I doubt ya would’ve appreciated it, either, if it was directed at you.”

“Yeah, well, the difference here is  _ I’m _ not an idiot who makes racist comments in a room full of ethnically-diverse humans and Animals.”

“At least now there’s an excuse to not associate with her,” Freddy gave, flipping the book open to his marked page. “Same social level or not, she insulted Chica, and our loyalties lie with Chica- not Creol.”

“Plus our morals,” Goldie snorted, leaning back on the bed. “I kinda wish Salvage hadn’t stopped Rodriguez.”

“If they started a fight, their parents would have been called,” Freddy reminded him, raising a brow at him over the top of his book. “And that would mean trouble.”

“True.” Goldie sighed, glancing towards the ceiling. “Guess we’ll just have to wait to find out if Chica decks her tomorrow.”

“Be careful what you wish for, Goldie.”

“Mm-hmm.”

Letting out a soft breath, Freddy looked back down at his book. There was no point in thinking more on it; it was over and done with.

At least, it was for now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Freddy is NOT a happy bear right now. No one touches his big brother in creepy and potentially perverted ways (at least not without said big brother's permission, but then it's not creepy)!
> 
> Also, I know Spanish and Mexican are nationalities, not races, but we tend to call people who hate the people of a specific country racists, too, so I’m using it in that regard.


	9. No Love, Alfred

“Pancakes, awesome!”

Alfred smiled slightly as Mangle dropped down into their seat, Blu on their left (in front of Alfred) and Chii on Blu’s other side. Spring sat beside Alfred, and Plushie’s chair was right next to Spring’s, a little bit higher than the teens’ but not quite a “high chair” either.

No one sat at either end of the table, instead choosing to sit in their usual group.

“Yep,” Spring laughed a bit, helping Plushie put syrup on his pancakes without making a mess. “And there’s a surprise inside, too.”

Alfred, Chii, and Spring hadn’t touched their own yet, waiting to see the reactions of the other three when they discovered the fruit- and, in Plushie’s case, chocolate chips- inside the pancakes. Curiously, Blu cut into his with his fork and his eyes just lit up at the sight.

“Strawberries!” he cheered, grinning. “Awesome!”

“I’ll never understand your obsession with strawberries,” Spring sighed melodramatically right as Plushie squealed in delight.

“Chocolate!”

“Now _there’s_ an obsession I can understand.”

“Chocoholic,” Alfred snorted, finally cutting into his own blueberry pancakes. “And don’t worry, Blu,” he added softly, “Spring made the chocolate. Chii did strawberry.”

“On opposite sides of the room, too,” Chii added cheerily.

“Good to know,” Blu laughed, happily eating his strawberry pancakes. Alfred watched as Blu suddenly paused, glancing towards the ceiling. “Geez, I didn’t realize just how hungry I am...”

“That’s what happens when you fall asleep at three in the afternoon,” Chii sighed, digging into her own pancakes. “You’re really lucky we have alternating schedules, but now you have yesterday _and_ today’s homework to do.”

“Oh no,” Blu groaned.

“Don’t worry, we’ll help,” Alfred chuckled.

“Of course we will,” Mangle agreed, grinning at the rabbit next to them. “Though really, you’ll probably correct us at every turn on that science packet.”

“If I had a dime for every time we couldn’t agree on an answer, I’d be a millionaire,” Chii declared with a laugh.

“Wish I could say the same,” Spring deadpanned, and Alfred couldn’t help but snort at that. Plushie, too young to truly understand, just looked confused.

“If Chii can say it, why can’t you?” the child asked naively, tilting his head slightly.

“Because he’d have to say billionaire,” Blu supplied with a little grin. Alfred just rolled his eyes. It wasn’t often they brought up Spring’s money- it was just one of those things none of them particularly cared about- but sometimes they had fun ribbing the rabbit about it.

Never in a way to make him feel guilty- _lord knows he already feels guilty enough without us criticizing him for it-_ but in that light-hearted way.

“Not true, actually,” Mangle corrected, lightly elbowing Blu’s arm. “Billion is a _huge_ jump from million.”

“I don’t get it,” Plushie pouted, glancing up at his brother.

“You guys are already millionaires,” Chii explained patiently to the child. “Multi, probably, but we don’t exactly count your assets,” she added with a shrug. “And we don’t exactly ask Spring, “so how much is in your bank account _this_ month?””

Mangle snorted and Spring just rolled his eyes. The kit, however, still looked confused.

It was simultaneously hilarious _and_ adorable. At least Alfred thought so.

“I still don’t get it. What’s a milonair?”

The bear decided to eat as his friends tried to figure out how to explain the concept of money to a six-year-old born into it. Plushie had never exactly had friends he could visit- well, he amended, there was Tommy, but Tommy lived with his grandmother and father in a big house too- so he probably wasn’t even aware that the life he and Spring lived was _extremely_ abnormal.

“It means we have a lot of money and can buy a lot of things, like big houses- like this one,” Spring was trying to explain. It was the worst explanation of a millionaire Alfred had ever heard, but it wasn’t like Spring could exactly explain _millions of dollars_ to a child who couldn’t even count to fifty yet.

“And it’s best to not tell anyone you aren’t friends with and don’t trust one-hundred percent,” Mangle added with a shrug.

“Why?”

“People like trying to be friends with people like us,” Spring told him, glancing towards the ceiling. “Not because they like us but because they think they can get something from us.”

“We didn’t know Spring lived anywhere _near_ Lakeview Road until he invited us over long after we became friends,” Blu put in, grinning a bit. “Mrs. Marks picked us up from school and brought us here and that’s how _we_ found out. Jerk didn’t even tell us.”

“To be fair we were all eight,” Alfred put in now, setting his fork down. “Probably didn’t know how.”

“Not like it’s important, anyway,” Mangle added, looking over at the small kit. “Spring was and is our friend, just because he lives in a big house and could probably buy this whole town with his allowance alone-”

“That is _so_ not true-”

“-doesn’t change the fact that he was, is, and always will be Spring,” Mangle finished with a firm nod, completely ignoring Spring’s denial. Alfred highly doubted Spring could buy the entirety of Durmont with his “allowance,” but he understood what Mangle was getting at.

“So... don’t tell anyone?” Plushie asked, tilting his head.

“Not until you know they’re your friends,” Mangle confirmed.

“And this is just mine and Mimi’s personal preference,” Spring added, “but we don’t tell anyone outside of our closest friends.”

“So no one at school knows Spring has the entire school system under his thumb,” Blu snorted, twirling his fork- thankfully without pancake on the end.

“That’s not true, either,” Spring denied, frowning. “I can still get in serious trouble, and we made an arrangement- it’s not like I just bribed them or something.”

“Isn’t that exactly what you did, though?”

“Er... well, I can still get in trouble, so I don’t _consider_ it bribery.”

They laughed at Spring’s sheepish admission, and Alfred just shook his head.

“To be fair, it’s for a good cause,” Alfred told him, reaching over and patting his back. He winced as he did so, however; his shoulder hurt like _hell,_ and he could feel it up and down his arm.

Blu frowned over at him but no one else seemed to notice. Alfred just shook his head slightly as Chii said, “Yeah, anything’s worth keeping the precious little bab safe.”

Mangle snorted, covering their mouth to keep the pancake they had just chewed _inside_ their mouth. Once they managed to swallow, they asked, “Did you _seriously_ just say that?”

“I sure did,” Chii confirmed with a grin, and Blu just laughed. Alfred smiled and glanced over at Spring, who was also smiling over at his friends. Plushie, having apparently decided that the conversation was no longer for him, was focusing on his pancakes, cutting what remained up into little pieces. Alfred picked his glass of orange juice up, taking a sip. “You can’t say it’s not true, either.”

“However,” Blu added, “how you managed to get us all the same schedules every year- we won’t go into _that_ one.”

“Yes, let’s not,” Spring snorted. “Protecting the precious little babs is worth anything,” he added teasingly, and Alfred immediately began laughing, setting his drink down thankfully _before_ he took another sip.

“Oh my god,” Mangle groaned as they covered their face, but the grin on their muzzle betrayed their amusement. “Chii, I should really murder you for this!”

“Nooo!” Blu cried, laughing and leaning over to Mangle. “Don’t do it, who else will make cake for us Saturday?!”

“Point,” Mangle laughed, lightly pushing Blu away from them. “You’re safe two more days, Chii!”

“Good to know!” she giggled, grinning over at her friend. “Cake for all the babs.”

“Noooo!”

Alfred and Spring shared amused grins. “Our friends are crazy,” Alfred supplied with a soft chuckle.

“Aren’t we all?” Spring returned, grin widening somewhat.

“Absolutely,” Alfred agreed with no hesitation, turning back to their friends on the other side of the table. “I’d have it no other way.”

No, Alfred wouldn’t wish for his friends to be any other way- not right then, not as he watched them joking and laughing together, their eyes bright and their smiles genuine. They were far from normal, he knew, all of them... but to Alfred, they were perfect.

They were family.

* * *

When Spring paused in the door to the classroom, Alfred paused as well. Mangle, however, didn’t notice their friend stop and ran straight into his back.

Thankfully, Spring was several inches taller than Mangle and quite a bit stronger, so the collision only sent Spring stumbling forwards rather than straight to the ground as it probably would have done to Blu. Spring glanced over his shoulder before looking back into the classroom. Heaving a sigh, he continued on inside, and _then_ Alfred saw exactly what had caused Spring to pause.

It was the Fazcrew, leaning in and whispering conspiratorially to one another, none of them paying the doorway any attention. It was... a strange, uncommon sight; he had never seen those five _whispering_ before, not like _that._

It was so surprising that, even as he approached them with his friends, he _almost_ didn’t notice that Henderson was sitting in his seat.

They stopped just a few feet away, and though Alfred was sure Spring and Blu could hear what they were saying, their voices were too low for himself to pick up on. He shared a look with Spring, then looked back at the Fazcrew.

_Here goes nothing._

“Excuse me,” he started, and instantly four out of the five snapped to attention, the elder Fazbear actually _jumping_ in surprise. Only Freddy Fazbear seemed unsurprised by the interruption, calmly turning around to face them with a slightly-raised brow. _Must have noticed us coming in. At least_ one _of you knows how to do a secret whisper huddle. Jesus christ._

“Huh?” the fox, who seemed to be at the center of their “huddle” or whatever, sounded as confused as he looked, and Henderson looked like a deer in headlights at that moment, his eyes somewhat wide. Alfred briefly wondered if he was about to have a heart attack.

_Well I don’t want him having a heart attack in my seat..._

He cleared his throat and turned his gaze to Henderson. “You’re in my seat,” he informed the rabbit simply, watching as the rabbit blinked owlishly at him as if not understanding what the hell was going on. After a few seconds, though, his words seemed to have finally registered in Henderson’s mind.

“Oh- right,” he muttered, quickly slipping out of Alfred’s seat and stepping over to his own just one row over. “Sorry,” he added, and Alfred simply watched as, without a word, Sanchez stood up out of Chii’s desk and went back to her own.

Alfred furrowed his brow- very slightly- as he watched the Fazcrew watch _them,_ each one, minus Freddy Fazbear, looking a mix of relieved and panicked. _They were talking about us,_ he surmised as he finally went to take his seat. He glanced over towards the younger Fazbear twin, and seeing that he was, in fact, watching _him,_ he quickly averted his gaze and turned around to face Chii.

He didn’t say anything and neither did Chii. Near the back, Blu and Spring leaned in close to each other to begin whispering. Chii set her notebook on her desk and wrote out, **This is really weird.**

Taking the offered pencil from Chii- because why take the ten extra seconds to pull his own out?- he turned the notebook around and wrote down, **I’m pretty sure they were talking about us.**

Chii frowned as she read it and took her pencil back. **Why?**

**They were watching us,** Alfred explained, ears twitching as the bell rang. Quickly, he scrawled out, **They looked really nervous.** With that, he set the pencil down and turned around, gaze landing on the teacher in the front.

“Good morning everyone!” the teacher greeted. Alfred frowned; the teacher was grinning _way_ too widely and it was downright _creepy._ “How’s everyone today?”

Alfred didn’t join the general murmur of _fine,_ instead watching the teacher’s dark eyes roam over the class, pausing on certain students. It was an unpleasant feeling Alfred got in his stomach as those eyes passed over him and landed on the Fazbear next to him.

“Good, good,” he chuckled, and Alfred _really_ didn’t like that sound even as Mr. Fueller moved his gaze away from the Fazbears. “Well then,” Fueller continued, “it’s time to take up homework, now isn’t it? Take it out and pass it to the front.”

Leaning over, Alfred grit his teeth and pulled the desired binder out of his bag- in the process grabbing a pencil- and set it on his desk. He pulled the worksheet out and took Chii, Spring, and someone named William Yaw’s worksheets from them, handing them forwards to the red-haired student sitting in front of him. A short burst of giggling from the other side of the classroom caused Mr. Fueller to pause and his smile slipped into a frown, and _that_ made Alfred feel even _more_ disturbed.

“Ms. Creol, would you like to share with the class what is so funny?” Mr. Fueller asked, raising a brow over at the girl.

“No, Mr. Fueller!” the girl in question denied, putting as much innocence into her voice as possible. The teacher did not look impressed.

“Then keep your laughter to yourself, please,” Mr. Fueller told her, turning away before she had a chance to respond.

After that, class went relatively normally. He gave them some formulas, showed them how to work it out on the board, gave some examples, and then... handed them worksheets.

Worksheets.

_We don’t even know what the hell we’re doing and you give us worksheets._

_Seriously?_

“I’ll walk around and help those who need help,” Mr. Fueller told them. “Just work on these individually until class ends. And don’t worry, they’re not for a grade.”

_It’s official, I hate this class._

Alfred couldn’t say he was _bad_ at math, but... it was a _statistics_ class. He had _no idea_ what he was doing- and he didn’t exactly have the right calculator, either. Graphing calculators were so far outside of his budget that it wasn’t even funny! That meant he had to do everything by _hand..._

He sighed and frowned, deciding to just go with it. It wasn’t like he had any other choice, anyway. So he began working out the problems as well as he could.

It went slowly, and it wasn’t long until, to his left, Henderson let out a frustrated growl and just threw his pencil down, clearly giving up on the inadequately-explained problems. Mr. Fueller didn’t even glance at the rabbit even as he passed by.

He _did,_ however, stop beside Alfred, and Alfred instinctively tensed up at having the human so close to him. However, Mr. Fueller leaned the other way, and Alfred glanced over to watch Mr. Fueller’s hand land on Fazbear’s shoulder.

Fazbear immediately tensed up.

_Teacher needs to keep his hands to himself,_ he thought, frowning sharply as he turned back to his own page. The man next to him chuckled, clearly pleased with- something or other, Alfred wasn’t sure. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know, either. It was seriously creeping Alfred out, and he _really_ wanted out of the room... immediately.

_I really don’t like you, Mr. Fueller._

* * *

Typically speaking, Alfred enjoyed art. He enjoyed everything _about_ art, even if he preferred music, reading and writing over it. He was pretty good at it- at least technically speaking, he wasn't quite confident on the "emotion" and "flow" aspect of it- and outside of their "private" music lessons with Mr. Fitzgerald, it was undoubtedly his absolute favourite class in the entire school. He enjoyed getting in there and messing around with his friends, distracting himself with the balance of _technical skill_ and _emotional flow_ that came with it. He enjoyed the techniques they learned, the freedom they were granted, and he enjoyed being able to lose himself to the lines and, eventually, the colours of the work.

He should have really known better with the Fazcrew in his art class. There wasn't even five minutes of peace before disaster struck.

The sound of plastic cracking sounded almost like an explosion to Alfred, and his eyes snapped over to the fox lying on the floor, a backboard on his back and watching, horrified, as ink flew high up into the air.

It happened so fast that Alfred didn’t get a chance to process what was happening- not until he felt the edge of the disturbingly-warm liquid hit him.

Immediately, he reached over to try and wipe the ink off of his arm- _for the love of god I do_ not _need an ink stain in my fur, I have to go see Mr. Danforth today-_ and frowned, glancing down at his clothes. They were spattered with ink. _Well, at least it’s not blood that ruined them this time..._

There was a familiar, annoying laugh across the room, but Alfred paid Creol no mind. Instead, he glanced up towards Spring as the rabbit turned to look at him. Alfred couldn’t help but notice the ink spidering over his cheek and over his eye; Spring seemed oblivious to it.

“Hey, Al,” Spring started, his voice light and teasing, “you got a little somethin’ on your shirt.”

Alfred smirked back at Spring and tapped his own cheek. _And you got a little somethin’ on your face._ Understanding instantly, Spring’s eyes widened and his hand flew up to his face, lightly touching the splatter across his face.

It was a humorous scene, and Alfred might have actually began laughing... if someone hadn’t called, “Well, _Springtrap,_ now you’ve got something to match that ugly scar, huh?”

The bear’s eyes narrowed towards the cheerleader, who was leaning on her easel. _I hope it breaks and you fall on your face. In the ink._

Much to Alfred’s disappointment, that didn’t happen. He glanced around as Blu and Mangle returned- he hadn’t even noticed them leave- to their sides, each glaring at Ashley Creol as well. If there was one thing none of them would accept, it was a jab at Spring’s scars.

The name Spring _trap_ was bad enough, but to _directly_ bring up his scars... well, that was unforgivable to Alfred.

After all, no one else knew how he got them.

“Yeah,” Blu snarked before Alfred realized he was about to speak. He didn’t stop the rabbit despite all of his sensibilities telling him _don’t respond._ “But it would match _so_ much better with your dead black heart.”

_Bam._ Around the room, some students’ eyes widened, and Creol herself immediately flushed with anger, her smirk falling into a sneer.

“If she even has one,” Mangle added with a snort, their tail flicking (and hitting Alfred’s leg, but he made no comment about it) in agitation.

“True,” Blu agreed without hesitance, his eyes firmly on Creol. “Someone like her is nothing but an empty husk, anyway, feeding off of everyone else’s misery.”

No one spoke up in the cheerleader’s defense, and Alfred almost smirked; it was true. The head cheerleader was well-known to turn on her friends at a moment’s notice, and everyone knew it.

“What did you say, you Mexican fuck?!” Creol demanded angrily, her eyes flashing in anger, and the hint of a smirk rising in himself immediately fled. Blu didn’t back down, though; in fact, the Fazcrew reacted more than Blu did, their startled expressions suddenly morphing into anger. Sanchez scowled deeply and Alfred had no doubt his and his friends’ expressions mirrored hers.

No one else looked too happy with her words, either.

_Creol, you’re a moron._

“For the record,” Blu drawled, crossing his arms, “I’m _Spanish,_ not Mexican! Learn geography!”

“Whatever,” Creol dismissed, lifting her nose in the air disdainfully. Alfred was reminded of Spring's mocking gesture that first day of class... only this student wasn't using it as a joke.  _She honestly thinks she's better than Blu._ “You still speak a stupid language, anyway.”

_And here it goes._

Blu stepped forwards with a snarl, but Spring was quick to grab his shoulder. Even then, however, their younger friend still didn’t let it go. “Oh please,” he started with an annoyed huff, “at least Spanish makes _sense,_ English is so weird- it’s an amalgamation of different languages.” Then Blu gasped and lifted a hand to his mouth, looking towards Creol with exaggerated sympathy. “Oops, sorry, I forgot- bimbos don’t know big words like amalgamation!”

_Someone should really put a stop to this before an actual fight breaks out,_ Alfred thought warily, watching as Creol, face a deep puce, straightened up and snarled, “I will-”

Then, suddenly, Mr. Smith was there, his own face flushed with anger. “That’s enough, you two! Act your age, all of you!” Alfred resisted the urge to point out “all of you” insinuated more than two people were involved.

Then again, technically speaking, Mangle _was_ involved, too.

“Sorry, Mr. Smith,” Spring apologized, pulling Blu back towards them. “Won’t happen again.”

“We’ll see about that,” Blu muttered and Alfred threw him a short glare. Of course, Alfred himself couldn’t promise that it wouldn’t happen again, but it was best if Blu did _not_ anger the instructor further.

Mr. Smith, however, ignored Blu’s words, instead turning to look around at everyone. “Get back to work, all of you,” he commanded, his tone leaving no room for argument. He turned back to Alfred and Spring, saying, “Mr. Salvage, Mr. Fischbach, if you need to go home and change clothes, you’re excused.” Then he turned those eyes on Jones, and the fox- who was standing now, he noticed- winced as the gaze fell on him. “No more accidents, Mr. Jones.”

“R-right, got it,” Jones squeaked, rubbing his head nervously.

“Ms. Sanchez,” the teacher continued, eyes snapping over to the chicken, “secure your backerboard properly, and Ms. Creol, _easels are not for leaning!_ You break it, you pay the damages fee, got it? Mr. Fazbear, get that smirk off your face, and Ms. Sanchez, whatever you’re about to say; _don’t.”_

Mr. Smith didn’t waste another word, turning on his heel and stalking across the rooms. Alfred shared a look with Spring before turning back to his own easel and the still-life beyond.

_I knew I should have just stayed in the nest this morning,_ he mused silently to himself, glancing over towards his friends. Jones was cleaning up the spilled ink, and as he stood he muttered an apology before hurrying away from them. Alfred said nothing.

Neither did anyone else.

* * *

Doing homework with Spring and the others was a breeze (as predicted Blu corrected them on pretty much everything in the science packet...), and then just sitting around outside in the warm August air was relaxing, but it had to end all too soon.

Alfred left early, informing the others he needed to see Mr. Dansworth, and of course Spring- ever the worried friend he was- had offered to drive him, but Alfred had assured him it would all be alright.

He didn’t want Spring to have to deal with any... injuries he might receive in his short stop home. It was already bad enough he’d have to deal with them himself.

Bracing himself for what could happen, Alfred unlocked the apartment and went inside, careful to avoid that squeaky floorboard that had thwarted many an attempt at sneaking in and out. The scent of booze hit him, but it was nothing new to him; gritting his teeth, he closed the door behind him and stepped into the living room from the “entry hall.”

His father’s chair was, blissfully, empty, but his mother was lying, asleep, on the couch, a dark bruise around her right eye. Alfred flinched; it hadn’t even occurred to him the first time he disappeared that in his absence, his father would target his mother. Of course it wasn't the _first_ time, but it still made him feel somewhat guilty... even if he could claim no love for the woman. He used to hope his father at least could. 

Clearly, he mused, he was wrong.

_Then again, I suppose there_ had _to be a reason she turned to drugs,_ he mused unhappily to himself, heading towards the hallway. For as long as he could remember, his relationship with his parents had always been this way; his father would drink excessively and his mother would drink, smoke, and take “medicine,” as she always called it. Alfred had no idea who she got it from or how she paid for it- _probably with dad’s money,_ he thought, opening his bedroom door and heading inside. _My money goes to bills and rent, heaven knows where dad’s goes._

_Dad’s probably working his shift,_ he suddenly realized, locking his door and throwing his bookbag on his bed. _Then he’ll head to a bar, come home and take out his anger at how his life turned out on me._

_Pathetic._

Looking around at the sad state of his room, Alfred frowned. The towel where he had covered the stain in the carpet was still there, his phone was still sitting innocently on his desk, and his bed was still neatly made. Clearly no one had disturbed his room while he was gone, and for that he was grateful.

Deciding to take a risk, he crossed the room and carefully pulled the window open, allowing the fresh... fresh-ish afternoon air in. _I’ll have to remember to close it when I get home,_ he silently told himself, looking across the alley his window overlooked to the apartment complex next to his own. There was a window across the way, though its blinds were pulled firmly shut. _Just in case._

Pulling the curtains shut, he backed away from the window. A glance at the mirror on his closet door reminded him that he needed to change, and he made his way over to the door, pulling it open to look at his shirts and pants hanging there.

He yanked down a clean set of clothes and changed as quickly as he could with his shoulder wrapped up the way it was. Then, almost instinctively, he pulled out another change of clean clothes, unzipped his bookbag’s front pocket, and carefully folded them inside, mindful to not make the change of clothes obvious. He pulled out his spare key- _to Spring’s house-_ and slipped it into his pocket, grabbed his phone off of his desk- _two missed called and a text-_ and then he opened the drawer at the bottom of his dresser.

There was a thin notebook there- not a normal notebook, though. He picked it up, its hard cover feeling nice in his hands. It wasn’t too expensive, and he had nine empty ones sitting elsewhere in the drawer, hidden beneath the socks lying there, so it wasn’t too concerning.

The notebook was the perfect length for every chapter he wrote; he never had more than a single blank page left over, and every single chapter could be split into multiple parts for the magazine he wrote them for.

_The deadline is tomorrow,_ he thought, closing the drawer and picking up a light bag. He slid the notebook inside so that no one would see it, and then he pulled the strap over his good shoulder and headed towards the door.

Alfred paused and listened carefully, but upon hearing no movement or heavy breathing, he unlocked the door and headed out into the hallway, over towards the front door. His mother, breathing steadily, was still fast asleep on the couch, a wine bottle on the floor next to her hand.

He didn’t bother waking her up, slipping out of the apartment and making sure it was locked. Satisfied that no one would go in- _as if they’d want to-_ he took his leave, getting back onto the sidewalk and heading east, towards the city.

It wasn’t a long walk to the firm where he was “employed,” for lack of a better word. Honestly, he had never expected them to actually _accept_ his writing- it had stemmed from a moment of emotional turmoil, he had sent it in completely on a whim, and he had been writing for them under an assumed name since, but it was still somewhat surreal to him. He loved writing, and getting paid to do something he loved- well, it was something not many people got to experience.

Especially many sixteen and seventeen year olds.

It was, after his friends, the best thing that had ever happened to him, and that fact alone only made him feel worse about his life in general.

_Sam and Reggie,_ he mused silently to himself, _were never meant to have a happy ever after._ In fact, in his original draft of the story that terrible November nearly a year before... well...

Spring changed the story. It was best not to dwell on it, he decided.

Careful not to jar his arm, he pulled the door open and headed inside. The girl behind the counter, who looked suspiciously a _lot_ like Mangle, glanced up. Her eyes lit up.

“Alfred,” Fiona greeted pleasantly, gesturing him inside. “Mr. Dansworth is in his office. We weren’t expecting you until tomorrow.”

“I finished early,” he told her simply, nodding a greeting of his own as he headed towards the stairs at the back of the “store,” blocked from sight by a wall. He headed up to the hallway above, and then he kept walking until he reached the second door on the left. He knocked once, twice, three times, and then waited for the “come in!”

When it came, he opened the door and stepped inside, looking at the dark-furred bear behind the desk. “Mr. Dansworth,” he greeted simply.

“Ah, Alfred,” the bear started, surprised, as he stood up from his desk. “Come in. I wasn’t expecting you.”

“I’m aware,” Alfred chuckled, walking over to the desk and pulling the notebook out of his bag. “I finished early.”

“Ah,” the bear laughed, accepting the offered notebook. “Well, we’ll have this chapter typed up by Saturday, then, and you can come get your notebook back,” he told Alfred, setting the notebook in a drawer where it would be kept safe. “Also,” he started, turning around and picking up an envelope. He turned around and handed it over to him. “You should really get a bank account so we can do direct deposits,” he chuckled as Alfred slid the envelope into his bag. “I’m startin’ to get worried about you walkin’ around with a check like that.”

“I’ll be fine,” Alfred dismissed, giving him a calm smile. He wouldn’t tell Mr. Dansworth that people on the streets were the least of his concerns. Mr. Dansworth, like every other adult in Alfred’s life, didn’t know what was really going on, or why he wrote so much in advance of the deadline. Alfred would keep it that way; Mr. Dansworth was an employer, not a friend. “Thank you.”

Mr. Dansworth nodded at him, and with a brief farewell Alfred headed out the door and down the stairs again. He waved towards Fiona and walked out, but instead of heading towards his apartment he turned to go to the bank to cash the check.

Really thinking about it, he mused, he probably _should_ get a bank account... it was much easier and so much safer than paying for everything with cash, especially if either of his parents decided to snoop around his bedroom.

They’d find that hole in his wall eventually, after all, and then Alfred would be in major trouble...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was actually really shocked at how little I had for Alfred. I was originally gonna bring his dad back in this chapter but he just didn't show up... so instead we meet Nightmare and an SL character, albeit briefly. Well, I wonder what roles these two will play... if any at all... but tell me, why would I prominently introduce a character who serves no purpose... ooh, I know, maybe I'm trying to trick you! ;)
> 
> If you can't tell, I REALLY enjoy science-savvy Blu. Typically speaking in academics my go-to is science and/or foreign language for Blu, math for Spring, history for Mangle, english/writing for Alfred, and natural sciences for Chii.
> 
> Also we got confirmation on Spring's economic status, whooo. No, he can't buy the entire town with his allowance, Mangle was exaggerating that, and yes, the reason Spring's family has so much money (and why Spring has so much free access to it) WILL be explained down the road. He's not rich just to be rich or ironic, there is a reason and it's a lot more depressing than they're willing to tell Plushie at his age. They don't talk about it, but the reason will be revealed at some point. But it probably will not be revealed by Alfred...


End file.
